


Waking Druantia

by LikeMeReckless



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Virginity, Roomates, Self-Esteem Issues, Therapy, Vacations, but sort of a slow burn, lots of vacations, not a slow burn, self love, you will see what I mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 70,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeMeReckless/pseuds/LikeMeReckless
Summary: Betty and Jughead have the perfect jobs, the perfect friends, and are the perfect roommates. No one in Betty Cooper’s life knows the inner turmoil or personal struggles she’s managed on her own for years- that is until a breakthrough in therapy leaves her contemplating her future and what life, and love, might look like. What if Jughead is exactly what she needs? What if Betty is exactly what he wants?
Relationships: Alice Cooper/FP Jones II, Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz
Comments: 403
Kudos: 278
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards — Winners!, Color Me Riverdale





	1. The Breakthrough

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you guys for checking this story out!! This story is MOSTLY fluff, but it does deal with a medical condition that I’ve seen portrayed VERY poorly in television lately! I’ll add more notes about this at the end! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to the lovely and talented @jandjsalmon for her awesome beta powers!
> 
> Follow my tumblr for fic recs and updates @likemereckless

**Friday, April 20th**

**Office of Dr. Radhika Saraswati**

**Psychologist, MD**

**Manhattan**

Betty rubbed her sweaty palms back and forth across her jeans as she sat on the worn-in, brown leather sofa. The trickling of the fish tank nearby did little to put her at ease or calm her nerves. 

She wasn’t afraid of Dr. Saraswati, quite the opposite actually. The woman had helped her immensely over the past three years in dealing with issues she hadn’t even realized she was carrying around.

Today she was nervous because she had what her therapist would call, “a breakthrough.” While many would celebrate this, the idea terrified Betty. Breakthroughs meant a change in plans and courses of action. Breakthroughs meant the unknown.

Betty’s right knee tapped up and down nervously as she gnawed on the tormented flesh of her lower lip. A turn of a door handle and the creeping of hinges all but caused her to jump in her seat before regaining her composure.

“Betty,” Dr. Saraswati smiled. “Always nice to see you. How has your week been?” 

By traditional beauty standards, Radhika Saraswati was gorgeous. Her eyes all but sparkled as her 5’8” frame entered the room and sat across from Betty in a floral armchair she seemed to prefer over a nearby leather one. Her dark skin was always radiant and dewy like the girls in magazines and her hair perfectly manicured and shining, almost a raven blue in the glow of the lights. But her looks weren’t what drew Betty to her; it was her warmth and presence. Her humanity.

“Hey, Dr. S,” Betty offered with a half-smile. “My week was crazy and busy as always, but that’s life in the newsroom for you. How about you?”

“Ugh,” she grinned, rolling her eyes. “My boys were off for spring break and they made me want to rip my hair out. They can literally fight about anything, and I mean  _ anything.  _ Bread crust, sneakers, who has the better view from their room, whose dirty magazine I found in the hall… But enough about me and my teenage drama. Tell me about you.”

Sucking a deep breath in Betty squared her shoulders and sat up straighter, nodding at the doctor. 

“This week was… good. It was… I mean… Good. It was good. I saw a movie with Jug and then we grabbed Thai food.” Betty stammered out.

Dr. Saraswati smiled and raised an eyebrow at her. She had been seeing Betty for three years now and knew something had happened this week to leave her incapable of coherent speech. 

“Betty,” she said softly. “This is a safe space. You know that. Something is upsetting you this week and you can’t hide that from me. I know you too well. Was it something with Jughead?”

Betty lowered her eyes to the floor and ruffled through the plush throw rug with the pointed toe of her leather flat. Swallowing back the lump in her throat she looked back up at Dr. Saraswati again and nodded in concession.

“No. He’s amazing. He’s my rock. It’s just that I was able to use the last dilator this week, completely and with barely any pain,” she confessed meekly.

“I thought you were going to tell me your cat got ran over the way you were acting,” Dr. Saraswati teased. “Betty, this is phenomenal! You’ve worked hard for this! Why aren’t we celebrating?”

Betty once again ran her palms across her legs and looked out the window to the bustling city down below. Couples held hands and enjoyed a walk in the spring sun and kids on bikes raced past the crowded street, sending people flying to dart out of their way.

“It’s just… I’ve been working up to this moment for so long,” she shared in all but a whisper. “What now? I’m afraid of what comes next…”

Betty hadn’t turned back to her therapist yet, and Dr. Saraswati didn’t say anything to force her to turn either. She understood that change meant a lack of control and lack of control was difficult for Betty. She allowed her to people watch for a few more moments and when her attention was returned to their session, she spoke.

“This is scary, Betty,” Dr. Saraswati agreed. “But it’s also amazing. Think about three years ago when you came into my office. You couldn’t even talk about what was bothering you or put a name to it and now you’ve progressed through your treatment.”

“I know,” Betty cried out warily. “I am proud and ecstatic. When I was able to make the last one work each night this week without pain I cried! Not painful tears, but relieved ones because maybe, just maybe, I could be normal. But then…”

Dr. Saraswati picked up where she left off. “But then you realized what the next steps would be.”

“Yes,” Betty hissed. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Dr. Saraswati closed the notepad in front of her and moved it off her lap and onto the coffee table nearby. Rising from her chair, she came and sat adjacent to Betty on the leather sofa, closing the distance between them.

“In my line of work, I don’t always get to see a happy ending or a problem get ‘fixed’,” she lamented. “But you have a real chance here at happiness, Betty. You can do this…”

Glancing down at her lap, Betty fiddled with her nails, picking at the cuticles and wringing her hands together before stammering in a small voice, “I’m so afraid.”

With a slight upturning of her lip and a knowing look, Dr. Saraswati lowered her hand over Betty’s.

“I know you are. And it’s okay to be afraid. But I want you to think about how far you have come, Betty. What you got through not only physically, but emotionally. If anyone can achieve their goals, it’s you, Betty.”

The rest of their session passed in a blur after Betty had conceded and agreed to start talking about her next steps. Three years ago she had broken down in that very same office, on the very same couch, to that very same doctor about her inability to have an intimate relationship.

She had dated and tried to be physical, but the pain was intense and she was unable to ever successfully finish. Her issues left boyfriends frustrated and ultimately led to their breakups. She had seen a gynecologist, assuming she was somehow misaligned or broken, but she had assured her she was not.

Vaginismus. The words still were sharp and clear in her head today. She had a condition that caused involuntary spasms of the pelvic floor muscles and made penetration painful and difficult. It explained why Betty could never use a tampon, let alone have sex.

Her doctor had given her a set of dilators and Dr. Saraswati’s card. She had put off calling her and opening the dilator set for 6 more months when Archie and Veronica had gotten engaged. She was elated for her friends but jealous that it came so easy to them.

The night after Veronica had announced their engagement at a dinner at a swanky new restaurant, Betty bit the bullet and made the call. 

Dr. Saraswati was like a beacon of hope for her from day one. She explained to Betty that her issue was more common than she knew and that most women were too embarrassed to share their stories or seek help. 

They spent weeks talking about her past and what may have caused this condition for her. For some, physical trauma was to blame. Others had no reason to have the condition. For Betty, the cause was deep-rooted and psychological and a bit physical as well.

Since she was a child her mother had insisted she be perfect. 

_ Comb your hair, Elizabeth. Stand up straight, Elizabeth. Button that top button, Elizabeth. _

The amount of self-control and perfection she was forced to endure on a daily basis had Betty so tightly wound. She was constantly worrying about her weight and how she looked and had developed body Dysmorphia by sixteen. Her mother had also lectured her frequently on waiting until marriage for sex and how she wasn’t to be a slut living under her roof. Everything was taboo.

At the age of fifteen, her sister, Polly, had gotten pregnant. Alice has spiraled out of control and had insisted Betty be put on birth control as she wouldn’t have two black clouds hanging over their family. Betty couldn’t fathom why Alice would even consider birth control, seeing as she constantly reminded her never to have sex.

Betty hadn’t really known what to expect when she went to the appointment back then. She wasn’t prepared for undressing completely and having her chest touched by a man. She remembered her legs shaking as she was instructed to place them in the stirrup footholds as someone looked at her where no one had ever looked before.

She remembers screaming as the plastic of the instrument he used scraped at her insides… the fact that he couldn’t get it in and it took four tries, all the while the nurse nearby sighed and said, “Elizabeth, relax.”

When that pain ended she felt cold hands on her and inside of her, her body still trembling and bleeding a bit. 

Before they left the office she was handed a packet of birth control to try and if the dosage worked out, a prescription to fill the next month. They expected to see her back in a year.

She remembers crying the whole way home while Alice silently held her hand and then sitting in a bathtub with her limbs still shaking, her body on fire.

She knows now that things could have been different. She was a virgin and he could have used a pediatric sized speculum. He should have recognized the condition when he initially couldn’t insert anything. He should have done better. Her mother maybe could have prepared her more, but Betty knew Alice had never intended to scar her like that.

Dr. Saraswati had explained how all of these psychological and physical factors contributed to her condition. After six months of sessions, Betty opened her dilator kit. The first few tries ended in tears. She was unable to even sneak the smallest one in an inch and she felt like she was constantly being watched.

After sharing this with her therapist, she had suggested Betty take a break for a while and just get comfortable in her own skin. She had told her to sleep in the nude, look at her body in the mirror, and remember that human sexuality was natural and nothing to be ashamed of. Three months later she was able to insert the smaller one. Now, twenty-one months after that, she was ready for the next step.

“So, you will need to keep dilating,” Dr. Saraswati explained. “It’s not a miracle cure and you can relapse and regress. But if you continue, until you find a partner you trust, you should be fine.”

“That’s it?” Betty queried. “I just go out and find someone to…” she trailed off, gesturing outward with her arms.

“Definitely not,” Dr. Saraswati laughed lightly. “You need to find someone you trust. Start dating and be open about what you’ve been through. Or maybe there’s already someone in your life who you can confide in that you’ve been resisting getting intimate with because of your condition. This won’t happen overnight, Betty, but it should be someone you can share everything with because it won’t always be smooth or easy. For you, the very last step will be trying to get another medical exam since that’s a traumatic memory for you.”

Sucking in one last deep breath, Betty’s shoulders relaxed a bit. She could do this. She would do this. There was only one person in her life who fit the description her doctor had painted, but he didn’t see her in that light. He was her best friend. 

“You know,” Dr. Saraswati interrupted as Betty rose to leave. “I think you already have someone in your life who loves you, that you trust, and would be more than understanding of your issues.”

“I don’t-” Betty began before the doctor cut her off.

“You know exactly who I mean, Betty,” she warned. “We’ve talked about Jughead countless times. You’ve credited his friendship with keeping you sane. Maybe the door swings both ways there. Just think about it.”

Gathering her bag and heading out into the warm April sun, Betty figured she better call Veronica for a girl’s night. Jughead could never love her like that. She wasn’t his type. She needed to find herself a boyfriend.

…..

**Apartment of Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones**

**East Village, New York City**

“Where in the name of Lucifer is the rest of your dress?” Jughead bellowed as Betty walked out of her bedroom in a short, tight, emerald green skirt and black crop top with four-inch heels.

As soon as the words left his lips, he regretted them and winced internally at the insecure grimace on her face.

“I mean, you look… I, uh, you are…,” he stammered trying to correct his error. “I don’t know how to not sound like a typical meat-head, hot-blooded jock right now, but you look hot.”

Betty flushed instantly, her pale cheeks glowing red under his praise. Hot was her goal for the evening, but she had never expected him to be the one to call her that.

“I’m going out with V, Cheryl and Toni to The Box tonight,” she explained. “You know the dress code at these places.”

“Clothing optional, apparently,” she thought she heard him mutter. 

“Any particular occasion?” he asked curiously. “Veronica mad at Archie again?”

Betty rolled her eyes before looking into the wall mirror in their living room to check her make-up one more time.

“I just felt like going out,” she shrugged, now satisfied with her appearance before flopping down on the couch next to him. 

Her already short skirt had ridden up further as she sat and he could smell the light perfume she wore; the one that always reminded him of the sea and something distinctly Betty. Inhaling again, he pulled a throw pillow over his lap before clearing his throat to talk.

“Do you, uh, need a ride?” he asked hesitantly. “I mean you probably shouldn’t Uber alone like that.”

“Always worrying about me, Juggie,” she smiled softly. “That’s why I love you, but V is picking me up in the town car and I don’t think I’m exactly dressed for a motorcycle ride.”

At that moment her phone screen lit up and she held the device up to him. 

“My ride's here,” she exhaled, leaning over to place a quick kiss on his cheek. “Don’t stay up too late writing and don’t wait up for me.”

…..

**The Box**

**Lower East Side**

It was a rare occasion that Betty called for a girl’s night out, so when she had text Veronica that afternoon, she had pulled out all the stops. They had reserved seating and bottle service on the second-floor balcony while aerial artists performed overhead, dangling over the packed dance floor below.

“To Betty!” Veronica giggled out, holding up her champagne glass. 

“To Betty!” Cheryl and Toni chorused back, clinking glasses before downing their champagne.

“So, Cousin Betty,” Cheryl bubbled. “Have you finally decided to figuratively and literally let your hair down tonight and maybe drop those panties as well?”

“Cheryl!” Betty squealed out, spilling her drink in the process.

“Oh, relax, cousin,” she drawled out with an eye roll. “We’re twenty-five! Live a little!”

“Yes!” Toni chimed in excitedly. “Let’s dance!”

The dance floor was packed and they were pushed back-and-forth by the hordes of people, swaying and jolting to the music. 

A bachelor party had approached where they danced, enticed mainly by Cheryl and Toni’s grinding. They were all residents at New York-Presbyterian Hospital and while the group gladly accepted their drinks, Veronica had explained that only Betty was still on the market.

That was how Betty found herself in a secluded quiet booth with Jeremy, a second-year surgical resident. His arm was slung around her shoulders and his other hand rested carefully on her thigh as he leaned in close to talk.

“This is a great club,” he yelled over the beat of the base that was booming from the speakers, rubbing his hand up and down her bare leg. “I’m so glad we ran into you on the dance floor.”

Betty’s heart was pounding as she felt his fingers brush her bare skin. Her breath hitched as she felt him lean forward to plant small kisses across her shoulder blade and collarbone, before trailing them up her neck and to her lips. As his lips grazed hers, his hand edged forward more under the lip of her skirt and Betty pulled back abruptly, standing and scooting her way out of the booth.

“Hey, hey,” Jeremy called, sliding out behind her. “I’m  _ so _ sorry. I didn’t mean… I thought I was reading things right. I would never-”

“I get it Jeremy,” Betty said brushing him off. “I thought I wanted that, too. It was nice meeting you.”

Ducking back into the crowd, Betty headed back upstairs to their private seating where she knew she’d find her friends.

“What happened to Jack?” Cheryl yelled out to her. “He wasn’t bad looking… for a man.”

“Jeremy,” Betty corrected her. “And we just didn’t click.”

It was after two when Betty tiptoed through the door, heels in her hands so as not to wake up Jughead with their clanking sound against the hardwood. Softly closing the door she pressed her back to rest against the hard surface before allowing the tears she had been holding in to fall.

For one night she wanted to be a normal twenty-five-year-old woman, wanted by an attractive man, but one had on her thigh had her running for the hills. She wanted to be cured completely, fixed, but with her limited dating skills and intimacy phobias it would be years before she found someone who would wade knee-deep through her shit-storm of baggage.

“Betts?” she heard Jughead slur softly and sleepily from the couch, sitting up from where he fell asleep to flick on a table lamp. “What time ‘sit?”

“After two, Juggie,” she sniffled. “Go back to bed.”

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Jughead rose from the couch and dragged his lanky form over towards her, hearing the tears in her voice.

“Hey, Betty, are you okay?” he asked, concern suddenly rendering him wide awake. “Did- did someone hurt you?”

Wiping her eyes and the mascara that must be in her cheeks, Betty shook her head and offered him a reassuring look.

“No, no Juggie. No one hurt me and nothing bad happened,” she sighed. “I’m just feeling emotional is all.”

Stifling a yawn, he reached up to scratch at the back of his head.

“Wanna talk?” he offered. “I can make some coffee or tea…”

Betty shook her head, a slight smile turning up the left side of her mouth.

“Not tonight, Jug,” she remarked, tossing her purse onto the counter. “I just want to get comfy and go to sleep.”

“Mmm,” he grunted, wrapping her up in a warm hug before tugging her towards her bedroom. Opening up her t-shirt drawer, he tugged out her favorite sleep shirt, one of his old “S” tees that he wasn’t supposed to know she had and tossed it onto the bed for her.

“Be right back,” he said lethargically before trudging to the kitchen to grab her a glass of water. Filling up the glass from the fridge dispenser, he also grabbed two Tylenol, just in case. Her door was cracked when he returned, so he knew she was changed, but the sight of her in his old t-shirt still left him breathless.

Jughead placed the water on her night and pulled back the covers for her to climb in before sliding in behind her. It wouldn’t be the first time they cuddled all night. In fact, since Veronica moved out three years ago when she and Archie had gotten engaged, this became a little ritual of theirs when one of them had a particularly bad day.

“Your mattress is more comfortable,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Yeah, well unlike you I didn’t get it from a garage sale,” she teased.

“Promise we will talk tomorrow, Betty?” he pressed, wrapping one arm around her waist.

“Tomorrow,” she echoed back. “Night, Jug.”

“Night, Betts,” he yawned and was asleep in moments.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. The Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the morning comes, Betty sheds some light on her personal struggles. Will sharing her deepest secret bring her peace or will the outcome be more than she bargained for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I can’t believe the messages I got from people on Tumblr over this story! I know many women suffer in silence and don’t talk about this condition, but I had no idea how many of my followers did! I’m so happy you are reading along and feel good about how this is being handled so far! Please continue to message me!  
> @likemereckless on Tumblr
> 
> Also, many thanks to @jandjsalmon for her beta reading and encouragement!

**Saturday, April 21st**

**Betty and Jughead’s Apartment**

**Lower East Side**

**New York**

She awoke the next morning to the sound of her alarm clock blaring through the room, cursing at herself for forgetting to shut it off the night before. Groaning, Betty rolled over and stretched out, missing the warmth of the man who was behind her all night. While he may seem broody and moody to everyone else, he was an excellent cuddler when you needed a nighttime snuggle or two.

He had been her favorite body pillow for years now, the frequency increasing once they became roommates. But they had been friends since childhood and had gotten even closer once Veronica and Archie had started dating and they expended all their time and energy writing for the Blue & Gold.

The truth was, Betty had fallen in love with him back then, somewhere around the timeline of junior year. She had spent many nights back on Elm Street imagining that during one of her red pen fests on his latest editorial that he’d pry the offending tool from her fingertips and shush her edits with his lips on hers.

Shaking the reminiscent memories from her brain, Betty swung her legs over the side of the bed, slipped her feet into her green fuzzy slippers and smiled at the scent of coffee she smelled wafting from the kitchen. He didn’t have to be up before her and she felt a warmth blossom in her chest at the knowledge that he got up early anyway to brew her some coffee to help wash away the alcohol from the previous night and get her day started.

Padding to the bathroom, Betty brushed her teeth and fixed her hair a bit, more out of habit from many years spent under Alice Cooper’s watchful eye, before heading into the kitchen where she found scones and coffee waiting for her.

“Pastries from Ala Pan and freshly brewed coffee?” Betty smiled quizzically. “You know how to spoil a girl, Juggie.”

Leaning back against the counter, he took a sip from his own mug before smiling smugly back at her.

“Clearly I know how to keep a woman around,” he bantered. “You seem to keep spooning me and using me for my body heat at least.”

“Aww, Juggie,” Betty giggled, ruffling his hair before pecking his cheek on the way to the coffee pot. “You’re good for more than body heat. You give really good back rubs, too.”

Raising his coffee cup in a salute, he downed the rest before turning his body to face her fully.

“So,” he coughed out, raising a curious eyebrow. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

Betty flushed a bit and her eyes dropped to the floor, scanning the cracked flooring by the kitchen cabinets.

He gave her a moment before nudging her foot with his own and tipping her chin back up with his fingers.

“Betts?” he prodded. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything?”

Betty’s eyes glistened again, but an enigmatic smile crossed her lips despite the sadness blooming there.

“It’s complicated, Jug,” she whispered.

Offering another wry smile and a shoulder shrug, he took his coffee mug and moved to the living room couch to give her some space and get comfortable.

“We’ve been through a lot of complicated stuff, Betty,” he continued. “Some mine, some yours...but we’ve always gotten through it. We’ve never had secrets from each other before.”

“This…” she trailed off looking around the room before settling her eyes back on him. “This is a different kind of complicated. It’s… personal, Jug. It’s… intimate.”

Jughead clucked his tongue between his teeth, and nodded, just barely. He tried his best not to be offended by her reluctance. Perhaps she just wasn’t ready to share yet.

Betty shuffled across the kitchen with her still hot mug and gingerly sat down on the sofa next to him, blowing a bit at the steamy liquid in her hands. For a long while they sat silently, sipping and enjoying the quiet stillness of a Saturday morning, the crisp air blowing in from the open windows around the edges of the room.

At some point he had placed his mug on the coffee table and laid back against the cushions, enjoying the laziness and calm. A few moments later, Betty’s mug followed suit and she leaned back into his side, his arm wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her in tighter towards his chest.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Betty spoke.

“I had a breakthrough yesterday that I shared with Dr. S at my therapy session,” she shared quietly.

He had known she had been seeing Dr. Saraswati since the very beginning and had supported it. Between Alice and FP, they both had enough baggage to go around, it was completely understandable that she’d have a lot to unpack with a therapist. Combing his fingers through her hair, he waited for her to continue, wondering exactly what type of breakthrough would prompt clubbing and then tears.

“We’ve always been really honest with each other, Juggie,” Betty continued. “But I haven’t told you everything about why I see her… what I see her for.”

“I’m glad you have her to talk to,” he admitted softly. “Sometimes you need an impartial outside party to talk with.”

“Up until yesterday, most of my progress depended on me. I was still in control,” she explained. “But after my breakthrough…”

Betty paused in her explanation for a moment and relaxed back further against him, leaning into his touch as his fingers combed through her hair.

“She said I was ready to start dating…” Betty faltered, feeling Jughead stiffen slightly behind her.

“That’s… that’s a good thing, right?” he asked. “I mean I didn’t realize that you weren’t dating because of her. I just thought you were busy with work.”

_ Also I was hoping you’d never date again _ , he thought to himself as he held her.

“No, I could have dated,” she clarified. “There was no… rule against it. And I did go out with a few guys a couple of times. It was just… complicated.”

Jughead moved himself up a little bit, propping her up further in the process, before nudging her to turn and face him, one of his legs falling to the floor to stabilize himself. Ducking out from under his arm, Betty shifted around and crossed her legs like a pretzel, biting her lip and gazing up at him through tired eyelids.

“Betty,” he began. “You don’t have to tell me anything you aren’t comfortable with, okay? I’m not offended. I just want to help if I can.”

“Jug,” she sighed, taking both his hands in hers. “You said it yourself. We’ve never had secrets. This is just hard to talk about with… a guy, or anyone really. I’ve been embarrassed and ashamed and I think maybe talking about it with you will help with those feelings. You’re my best friend.”

She waited for him to respond, but he sat there silently, giving her time to think and process what she wanted to say instead. 

“There’s no one I trust more than you, Jug,” Betty shared. “It’s just this pertains to one thing we don’t really talk about with each other… sex.”

His eyes widened a bit at her mention of the word. While they had talked about dreams and fears, traumas and insecurities, they had never really ventured into deep talks about intimacy unless they involved harmless teasing.

“God, Jug, I don’t even know where to begin,” Betty flushed. “I don’t even know if you want to hear this stuff about me or if I can say it out loud.”

Jughead offered her hands a squeeze, before taking his left hand from hers to cup her jaw.

“You can tell me everything or you can tell me nothing, Betts,” he breathed. “You know I love you and nothing will change that.”

Betty crinkled her eyes up at him before pushing him back against the arm of the couch and climbing back against his chest. Pulling his arms around her in a hug, she settled back for what she assumed might be a long chat.

It felt good to be held; comforting and safe. But she also knew it would be easier to talk about everything without having to say it face to face. While she had come to accept that sex was normal, she still was a bit flustered talking about herself personally.

“Back in high school I didn’t really… experiment much. I obviously wasn’t in the dark, you know, convent style, but I didn’t know what exactly was normal or not. I didn’t realize that it wasn’t normal to have pain when trying to use a tampon. I didn’t realize it wasn’t normal not to be able to… you know, to yourself. That it wasn’t supposed to hurt that bad.”

Absentmindedly fiddling with the leather cuff around his wrist, Betty continued.

“I chalked a lot up to being a virgin,” she shared. “I knew that sex hurt the first time based on what books and friends said, but I didn’t know that those small things shouldn’t feel like being split in two.”

She paused again to gather her thoughts and played with the dangling strings around his leather cuff.

“When we got to college, I started dating that guy, Greg. Do you remember him?” Betty asked.

“Hated that dude,” Jughead deadpanned. “But not important now. Continue.”

“After a couple of dates we tried to fool around,” Betty recalled. “When he couldn’t get a finger, you know, without me yelling out, we gave up. That happened every time we tried to go to bed together. A few weeks later he broke it off.”

“Complete moron,” Jughead mumbled into the top of her head. “You’re worth so much more, Betts.”

As she spoke more about her past, the words seemed to flow more freely. Why she had been nervous to share this with him at first was beyond her understanding now. Maybe she equated sex to her self worth back when she first began this journey. It was empowering to know now that was no longer the case.

“After Greg, I met Derek. He was sweet and a decent guy,” she reminisced.

“Hmm,” huffed Jughead. “Sadly I’d have to agree. I wanted to hate Derek, but the dude was so damn nice.”

Betty chuckled and tilted her chin to look up at him.

“He tried so hard to be your friend,” she laughed. “I think he thought he needed your approval before I’d truly like him.”

“As it should be,” he teased, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Anyway,” she smiled. “I decided that the only solution to my problem was my virginity needed to go.”

Still glancing up at him, she could see the grimace and hardline cross his features. 

“Jug, if this is making you uncomfortable…”

“I’m fine, Betty,” he said quickly. “Truly, I am. Just as nice as Derek was, I don’t like to think about him touching you.”

Betty found his sentiment endearing and it spurred a flicker of hope in her chest. Maybe it was a brotherly defense mechanism or maybe it  _ was _ something else. Perhaps the small moments and touches she had taken as slight signs he may feel the same over the years had been real. As suddenly as she swelled with anticipation, she quelched it. Even if he did feel the same, she was broken; unwhole. How could she condemn him to such a life? Shaking her thoughts away, she continued her story.

“I went straight to the main event with him. I wanted it over with, but it didn’t work out so well. He couldn’t even manage to get in an inch and I was in absolute agony.”

Jughead hugged her tighter to his chest, his heart beating rapidly. He was horrified she had gone through all this alone this whole time. It must have been confusing, and frustrating and depressing all at once

“I broke up with him a few weeks after that,” Betty said. “He was so nice, but how could I make him stay with me when I couldn’t even be a normal girlfriend.”

“Sex isn’t everything, Betty,” Jughead interjected. “There’s so much more to a relationship than that. So much more to you.”

“I know,” she answered. “I know that now. Dr. S and my medical doctor gave a name to what I have. Vaginismus.”

Betty stopped for a moment to chuckle.

“God, that’s kind of an awful name, isn’t it?” she laughed again.

“It really is,” he laughed alongside her. “They could have made it sound less… blunt?”

Feeling more confident, Betty sat up and turned herself to face him again.

“It’s basically an awful word for my pelvic muscles spasming beyond my control, especially if they anticipate pain,” she explained. “It’s like the airtight lock on a spaceship malfunctions.”

He stared at her for a moment before they both burst into a fit of giggles.

“Only you would compare your… parts to a spaceship,” he laughed.

“Well, it has put me in my own world for years,” Betty conceded. “So it may actually be apropos. Anyway, I was given a set of dilators to work with back when I started. They start off really small and grow as you go. It took me  _ forever _ to work up the courage to start and many nights ended in tears and frustration.”

“I wish you told me,” he whispered. “I would have gotten ice cream, or put on one of those chick flicks you pretend not to like, or gotten an ice pack for your... spaceship.”

At that they both burst into hysterical laughter again, Betty slumping forward against him as they laughed so hard they cried.

“I’m sorry, Betts,” he breathed out finally. “I want to say the right things here and I’m not sure if I am. None of this is funny, at all.”

“It’s not,” she agreed. “But you being, well, you, is helping me get this all out.”

They sat for a while calming down, Betty still pressed tightly against his chest, inhaling his scent and smiling.

“So this breakthrough,” he finally said. “Were those tears of joy last night?”

Betty rolled her eyes at him before sitting up again.

“Definitely not,” she shook her head. “Yesterday I told Dr. S that I was able to use the last dilator without pain. She was so happy for me, Jug, but I was a mess.”

“Betty, that’s amazing,” he gushed. “All that time and tears and you worked through it all on your own. You should be proud.”

The grumble of her stomach interrupted their discussion. Jughead rose from the couch and headed to the bag of scones he had popped out to buy this morning, grabbing them from the counter along with the butter and some dishes. Making his way back over to the table he placed two of the pastries on each of their plates.

“I couldn’t decide between savory and sweet so I picked up two bacon cheddar chives and two maple cinnamon.”

Smiling in thanks, Betty picked up the bacon cheddar scone first, slicing it in half. Jughead did the same before slathering butter on his and taking a bite so large his entire mouth was stuffed.

“Mmmm,” he groaned. “Butter. You need butter on that Betts.”

Betty was chewing a smaller bite than he was as he spoke, smiling at his never-ending appreciation for food.

“It’s great plain,” she reassured him. “Really.”

Rubbing his hands together, a few stray crumbs made their way to the coffee table as he shook his head and swallowed.

“Everything is better with butter,” he shared, passing the butter knife her way, almost as a dare.

Taking the knife, Betty slathered butter onto her scone, less than him, but still a respectable amount before taking another bite and nodding in concession. After devouring breakfast, Betty sat back and groaned, patting her stomach in a stuffed, satisfied manner.

“Feel better?” he asked, getting up to grab the coffee pot and refill their previously discarded coffee mugs.

“Those were delicious,” Betty groaned. “But I may be in a food coma until late afternoon.”

Chuckling, he poured some more coffee for them both before returning the pot to the kitchen and sitting back down on the couch with her.

Taking a deep breath and offering a nervous smile, Betty teased, “So where were we?”

“I believe,” he said with a smirk, “you were about to tell me how a breakthrough about your broken vagina led to you going out basically naked, coming home in tears, and snoring in my ear all night.”

“I  _ do not _ snore,” Betty shot back her mouth aghast.

“You drooled on me, too…” he smirked playfully.

“I did not… you…” she began but never finished as they were both trying to keep straight faces over their coffee mugs.

“Anyway,” she spat out. “Dr. S said I would need to make sure I explored things with someone I trusted and who loved me and I guess I just realized that I was twenty-five and had never had that… all this time gone while my friends have loved and had their hearts broken and had passion and I… watched Netflix.”

Betty looked down at her hands again, wringing then in her lap, nails scratching one on top of the other, unaware of the tension in Jughead’s jaw and shoulders as she spoke.

“I wanted to just… be normal for one night. Meet someone, feel attraction, and just go for it, so I asked V for a girl’s night. In the end, I couldn’t…” she trailed off. 

“I’m glad,” he soothed softly, pulling her hands from her lap where they ravaged each other. 

Jughead’s heart beat like a warring tribe’s drums. He was sure you could hear it clear across the city. 

“I’m glad you didn’t go through with it,” he said a bit more confidently this time. “With all you’ve had to go through, you deserve more than just some random guy from the club. You deserve things to be special.”

With a slight pout to her lips, Betty opened her mouth as if to speak before closing it again, only to lean forward and pull him into a tight embrace.

“Thank you, Jug,” she breathed against his ear. “I know I do. You’re right. It’s just another long road ahead to find someone who will love me enough to be patient with me, you know?”

Jughead’s mouth was dry and his pulse was beating through his ears. He had been silent for the better part of a decade so as not to ruin what they had, but maybe right now fate was telling him to be honest and come clean. 

He ran his hands up and down her back in a firm, but soothing motion he knew she liked, buying himself time. If he didn’t tell her now, she may finally find someone new. If he did tell her now, would she think it was because he wanted to sleep with her? Choosing his words carefully, he pulled back from her embrace.

“Betty, you have…  _ a lot _ on your plate right now and I’m not sure… the timing of this may be… what I want to say,” he stopped, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling and huffing out a puff of air. He sounded like a babbling moron.

“Jug,” Betty laughed. “What is it? I seriously just told you about my vagina problems. There is absolutely nothing stranger that you could say at this point.”

Jughead shot her a ‘t _ hat’s what you think _ ’ type look before grabbing both of her hands in his again.

“Before, when you were talking about dating, you said you wanted to be with someone who loved you and who would be patient,” he repeated. “What if… what if someone already loved you?”

Betty had been looking down at their linked fingers, but when he stammered out his question, her eyes shot up to meet his.

“Jug?” she puzzled, catching his gaze.

“What if someone already loved you?” he repeated again. “What if there was someone who was in love with you?”

Her breath caught in her throat for a minute. There was no way? This had to be hypothetical. While she had sat there, in love with her best friend for years, there was no way he had been silently pining away as well.

“Well,” Betty spluttered. “Send him my way.”

Jughead shook his head a bit, trying to wipe away her attempt at humor.

“Betty, I’m serious,” he intoned. “I’m not saying this now because I think you need help in the bedroom or because I think I’m some magical cure. It’s just, when I’ve pictured my future it’s always just been with you and if you’re out looking for Mister Right, I think I would forever regret not tossing my hat in the ring.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off before she could even squeak out a syllable.

“And I know our friendship is strong enough that if you don’t think you could ever feel the same, you’d be honest and we’d move past this awkward moment and still be each other’s confidantes, but I’m hoping above all else that I’ve read the little signs right, the ones I tried to ignore for the sake of friendship and that maybe, maybe you might love me, too.”

His cheeks were flushed and a lock of hair had fallen in his eyes. He had breathed out his entire speech in one long breath, almost as if the next puff of air may erase his courage and leave him mute. His eyes were soft and sincere and Betty had dreamed of seeing him look at her this way for what felt like a lifetime.

“Juggie,” she choked out as her hand cupped his jaw, her eyes once again wet. “Of course I love you. How could I not?”

Letting out a breath, his chest filled with nervous vibrations, he leaned into her palm and let out a short happy laugh, one that she echoed.

“How long?” he asked her curiously. “How long have we had our heads in the sand?”

Betty shook her head and bit her tongue between her teeth. 

“Probably about eight years for me?” she confessed, tipping her head to the side as if to ask him the same.

“Ten,” he echoed. “I’d say I was about fifteen when I knew I had it bad for you.”

Through her tears, Betty began to laugh, pulling her hands away to wipe some moisture from the corners of her eyes.

“What?” he asked at her impromptu set of giggles.

“It’s just so… us,” she explained. “I tell you I’m basically a Venus flytrap and you tell me you love me. It’s just very… us.”

For a moment they both sat there smiling, not talking about the larger issue at hand before Betty broke the silence.

“Jug, I just want you to think about… think about what you’d be getting yourself into here if we were together,” she worried. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be… intimate. To have sex. I’m assuming that’s something you’ve thought about in the last decade. I know I have.”

“Sex isn’t everything, Betty,” he reiterated as he had said earlier. “I’ve loved you without sex or even a kiss for a decade. I’d be the luckiest bastard if I even just got to kiss you. I’m not some hormone overloaded, libido driven guy. My needs are simple.”

Betty looked at him quizzically. “So, you don’t want to have sex?” she asked.

Jughead’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“No! Believe me, I do. I very much do, with you - but it’s not a deal-breaker for me. There are… other ways to express love and if someone gets to kiss you I want it to be me. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

Betty raised an eyebrow and smirked at him incredulously.

“One, that was pretty smooth. I didn’t know you had it in you,” she joked. “Two, what makes you think you know how to kiss? And three, did you just quote Gone with the Wind?”

Feeling more confident, Jughead pulled her forward and stretched his legs out so she was sitting across his lap, a position they had been in many times before, but now seemed more significant.

“One,” he repeated. “I can be smooth when I want. Two, nothing we’ve ever done together has been bad, so kissing won’t be either. And three, yes. You bring out the romantic in me.”

Leveling up on her thighs a bit more, Betty wrapped her hands around his neck and inched closer, her fingers playing with the short strands of hair there.

“You know this won’t be smooth sailing,” she pointed out. “And that I might struggle with certain things and get upset.”

“You could bring a monsoon, Betts,” he sighed, “but we’ll wade through those waters as we get to them.”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” she decided with a smile.

“I’m going to kiss you back,” Jughead cooed warmly.

Sitting back down on his legs Betty leaned forward slowly, her lips still stretched in a radiant grin. Jughead remained still, allowing her to take the lead.

His breathing was rapid and he was sure his pupils were so dilated that he probably looked more like an owl than a man at this point, but he couldn’t care less. She looked at him softly for what seemed like forever.

“I just want to remember this,” she swooned, before finally leaning down to drop her lips on his own.

Their kiss started off soft and innocent, a simple brushing of lips and noses with soft breaths intermingled in between. Top lips grazed bottom ones and hands held them to each other tightly. 

The first touch of her lips on his was intoxicating and charged, the currents running from his lips to his veins and everywhere else from that central point, jolting his heart into rapid pulsations. He felt weak and strong all at once, while Betty, to her credit, never faltered in her confidence or smile. He could feel her grin against his mouth, satisfied with his reaction.

Pressing more firmly, he dropped his hands to her back and pulled her in closer, sucking her lips one by one between his own and nipping at them softly with his teeth earning him a breathless sigh and a shudder.

After a while, her mouth opened beneath his and he felt her tongue, warm and directed with a purpose, begin to stoke his own and he was gone. His hands tangled in her hair and held her face tight to his and his tongue explored her mouth with abandon. It was beyond anything he could have imagined.

They kissed like this for a long time, neither wanting to break away, but finally, oxygen won out. Reclining back on the couch, Jughead lay down and pulled her with him, cradling her to his chest, confident that was enough for now.

He loved her and she loved him. That was enough.

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. The Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead do some exploring, some researching, and some partying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I have really been overwhelmed by the private messages regarding this story. I had NO idea when I started that so many people would appreciate the content- in fact I was afraid no one would read it, but I had to write it anyway.
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful @jandjsalmon for her encouragement and beta skills.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr or send me a message- I’m loving chatting with you all! @likemereckless

Friday, April 27

Betty & Jughead’s Apartment

Six days. It had been six days since Betty Cooper had straddled him and glued her lips to his own. Almost one week of blissful days of soft kisses, wet kisses, deep kisses, and lazy ones, too. 

He’d heard her gasp as his lips trailed down the tendons in her neck, sigh his name as they rubbed noses, and giggle as he kissed her all while poking her most ticklish spots.

He was currently doing some tickling at the moment. They had been cuddled up on the sofa, Thai food containers scattered about the coffee table, attempting to choose a movie to watch on Netflix.

She had accused him of hoarding the remote. He had accused her of always deferring to him for movie choices to which she had replied that he picked the best chick flicks.

Their debate had landed them horizontal on the cushions, his fingers under her t-shirt, prodding at her ribs while his nose brushed her neck, tickling the sensitive skin there.

“Jug!” she squealed, squirming away from his fingers. “Okay, you win! Stop!”

“Victory!” he yelled, laughing along with her, his giggle suddenly cut short as she shifted just the slightest bit and his hand was no longer just touching her rib cage, but the underside of her chest.

They both went still at the contact, his eyes darting up to meet her equally widened orbs, her breath hitching the slightest bit in the back of her throat.

This was new territory; uncharted and unexplored in their six days as official girlfriend and boyfriend. Though their friends would probably assume they jumped each other's bones the first night out, the truth was they were both a little awkward and nervous through it all. They had been friends for so long that while the transition wasn’t uncomfortable, it wasn’t to be rushed.

For a few more seconds they remained immobile, Jughead waiting for a reaction from her. When there was none, he took it as a sign that she was comfortable and as intrigued by the new contact as he was. Shifting his thumb again in a minuscule way, he brushed against her once more, noting the enlargement of her pupils and the swell of her nostrils as she breathed in deeply.

Betty’s fists grasped at his t-shirt tightly, knuckles whitened from the force of her grip. Some might have taken this as a sign of upset, but Jughead knew her better. She was overthinking and planning. He paused in his strokes to allow her time to make the next move. 

As her fingers began to loosen, Betty glanced up at him unsure and nervous for a mere moment before dropping her hands to the hem of her sweater. As she began to edge it up revealing first her bellybutton, then her ribs, he placed his hands over hers to pause the motion.

“Let me,” he whispered, his face blanketed in a look that could only be described as sweet yet wanton.

With a bashful nod, Betty dropped her own hands and he eased her sweater up and over her head, dropping it softly on the arm of the couch behind her. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen her topless, but it was the first time in this context.

He remained a gentleman at first with his eyes raking over her shoulders, his fingers tracing a path down her neck and across the tops of them, picking lightly at the bra strap there. His hands slid and smoothed across her collarbone before wrapping around her biceps and sliding down her arms, their fingers linking as he reached the end.

With a slight squeeze, he dropped her hands and returned to her waist where he eased his fingers up her stomach and ribs again before once again resting right below her bra. With a sideways smile and a questioning glance, he silently asked for permission to continue. 

He noticed a slight flush to her cheeks, whether from excitement or insecurity he wasn’t sure, but did what he could to reassure her how gorgeous she was.

With a nod of Betty’s head, he resumed his exploration, hands coming up to cover her pale blue bra and brush across the tops of skin exposed there.

Gasping at the contact, Betty briefly met his gaze again before leaning forward and kissing him eagerly, her tongue probing his mouth with clear intent. At first contact of her lips, he sank into her, his hands more confident now due to her favorable reaction.

Pressed up against him, Betty widened her knees and inserted herself across his lap, her teeth biting and dragging at his bottom lip as she moved. Her bite ignited something within him and he growled against her lips, roughly pulling away to begin depositing kisses down her neck, pausing to suck on her pulse point, before making his way to her collarbone and then slowly down to the swell of her chest.

Lacing her fingers through his hair, Betty pulled him closer to her skin, arching her back towards him in offering.

“Betty,” he whispered against her skin. “I want-”

Dropping a hand from his hair, Betty reached behind her back, more confident now, and deftly unclasped her bra, the garment loosening and falling between them as he yanked the fabric away before resuming his assault on her body.

At the first touch of his lips against her, she mewled out a deep throaty sound that he knew he needed to hear again. As his lips and hands worked her skin, she swore to every deity worshipped, her nerve endings aflame like a million tiny sparklers on a hot summer night, burning and sparking in the most glorious way.

She needed his lips again and dragged his face back upwards to hers, allowing herself to fall back into the sofa cushions behind her and pulling his lanky frame along with hers, nudging his lips to respond against hers. Sizzling and hungry, their lips crash together, devouring each other like starving animals.

Her hands, emblazoned, found their way up and under his shirt against the hard planes of his chest and before she could register the feeling of smooth, hard form muscle tone, he was jerking away to momentarily remove his shirt, tossing it with hers off to the side. 

Their hands roamed and their lips crashed, sucking the air from between them until none was left and they had to pause. They were at a precipice now, considering whether to tip or to balance. Resting his forehead against hers, their lips still brushing, they both breathed deeply, hands stilling and returning to safe places like arms and shoulders in a silent agreement.

Exchanging a few last lingering kisses, they settled against each other, noses still touching with soft, contented eyes.

“Wow,” he finally said breathily, hand sliding up her arm to thumb at her cheek. 

“Very articulate, Jones,” she teased. “No wonder you’ve always wanted to be a writer.”

Turning up the left corner of his lip he chuckled at her before tucking some hair behind her ear.

“You have that effect on me,” he confessed. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Betty bit her lip and fluttered her lashes shyly, not used to his open praise and appreciation, but very much enjoying it.

“And how often did you picture this, Juggie?” Betty asked him quietly.

“All the time. Almost every day.”

“Well, no more imagining,” Betty reassured him. “I’m yours and you are mine.”

After a few more mellow kisses she sighed and settled into his chest.

“Hey, Jug?” she asked hesitantly from below his chin. “Do you… I mean, are you…,” she paused anxiously trying to find the right words. “Are you fine that we... stopped. Like, that we didn’t go any further?”

He pulled back from her and sat up a bit, noticing her blush at their half states of undress during this conversation. Grabbing a blanket off the couch, he pulled her into his side and wrapped them both in the woolen fabric.

“Betty,” he said with a genuine and sincere air about his words, “you are enough for me in any capacity. We’ve been friends for so long that this transition is bound to be a bit slower for us than most regardless of your health issues. We aren’t strangers. We have a history and a pattern of being with each other and altering that pattern is a little scary.”

Betty swallowed and nodded, agreeing with everything he had said. She loved every new change they came across together this week, but each new layer removed, physically and emotionally, was deep and held such meaning. 

It was kind of like that special kind of gift at a baby shower. You could tear through the others with such speed and ferocity, but then when you get that one from your Mom that was yours when you were a baby, you take your time and savor the gesture and sentiment.

“Eventually- probably sooner rather than later,” he conceded, “we will want to cross another barrier and then another. And trust me, I am definitely looking forward to it. But I’m not in a rush. We’ll know when it’s right and I want us both to feel completely comfortable… especially you,”

Gripping his neck, Betty hugged him fiercely and relaxed against him. 

“Have I told you how much I love you?” she muttered into his skin.

Chuckling, he pecked a kiss to the top of her head. “Only every hour on the hour and a few times in between during the past six days. Should we head to bed?”

“Yeah,” she yawned at his words, laughing at the timing of her involuntary gasp.

Since they had confessed their feelings for each other, they had been sleeping together each night. Betty had said she slept better with his body heat, but he thought maybe she was also getting used to the feeling of closeness slowly before being ready to move forward. After cuddling to sleep, neither wanted to go back to sleeping alone anyway.

“But first, we need to get you some pajamas. There is NO way I’m getting any sleep if you stay like that.”

…..

He stayed awake that night while she slept, staring up at the ceiling as she lay cuddled into his side, head on his chest. It reminded him of their heart-to-heart six days prior when she had unburdened herself on him, sharing her deepest secret before confessing her feelings. He thought back on that afternoon in reflection.

Six Days Prior.

Betty had fallen asleep against his chest rather quickly and judging by the weight of her limbs and depth of her breathing, was out cold. No doubt she needed the nap after her beverage consumption the night before and the emotional toll her confessions had taken on her body.

Jughead soothed am arm up and down her back, awestruck that a mere thirty minutes ago his tongue had been in her mouth. The whole scenario was surreal. Betty, the person he knew best in this world, had been suffering alone for years. 

He couldn’t have known, but part of him chastised himself for never delving more into her lack of forays into the dating world. Perhaps she would have confided in him sooner.

Slipping out from under her carefully and grinning at her little grumble of protest, he headed into the kitchen and plopped himself on a barstool at their countertop, opening his laptop that was plugged in there.

He may have not been there to help her through this in the past, but he was going to make damn sure that Betty felt comfortable and confident from this point on. In order for that to happen, he needed to put one of his best skills to use: research.

Opening up a Chrome tab, he typed “Vaginismus” into a Google Search. A wide array of links and diagrams of female anatomy popped up on his screen at once, along with Google’s most popular definition: Vaginismus is a condition involving a muscle spasm in the pelvic floor muscles. It can make it painful, difficult, or impossible to have sexual intercourse, to undergo a gynecological exam, and to insert a tampon.

He scanned the results, skipping over WebMD and Wikipedia and started with Mount Sinai’s website, always finding their information useful.

He started at the beginning reading about possible causes and symptoms surrounding the condition.

“Causes:

Vaginismus is a sexual problem. It has several possible causes, including: Past sexual trauma or abuse, Mental health factors, A response that develops due to physical pain, Intercourse, Sometimes no cause can be found. Vaginismus is an uncommon condition.”

“Symptoms:

The main symptoms are: Difficult or painful vaginal penetration during sex, vaginal penetration may not be possible, vaginal pain during sexual intercourse or a pelvic exam.”

Jughead clenched his own muscles in response while reading. He couldn’t imagine how feeling such pain when trying to obtain pleasure with a partner could mess up someone’s mindset. More importantly, if it affected the ability to have a medical examination it could put Betty at risk for undetected disease.

As he read he jotted notes into his notebook nearby, wanting to be as educated as she was on the matter. He also jotted himself a note to make sure he researched the psychological factors of the condition after the physical.

When he reached the part regarding treatment, he noted that besides her regular doctor and therapist, a pelvic floor physical therapist could be utilized as well. He jotted that down to bring up when the time was right to see if it was something she ever considered.

After spending about an hour scanning the web researching her condition, he stumbled across a blog where women, and partners, shared trials and tribulations and their stories. Here he found that the condition had destroyed some marriages and yet others thrived. Having a partner who was educated and supportive, but not pushy, helped a great deal.

He found himself moved by some of the personal testimonies he read. So many of the women felt undeserving of love and never considered themselves sexy and had no sexual desire. Other women felt attraction just fine and were very much able to become aroused. He wasn’t sure which category Betty fell into yet, but he was sure he’d be able to read her signals and body language just fine.

Some couples were happy to engage in other forms of intimacy and some ignored it like the elephant in the room and went on being great roommates. Many posts cried for support or to vent about feelings of depression and worthlessness. Others were people reminding their fellow group members that sex did not define them.

It was all a lot to take in. Glancing up at the microwave, Jughead realized he’d been reading for two hours. He bookmarked the blog, which had been the most informative place he’d found, and closed his laptop, running his hand across his face, eyes tired from too much screen time. He was worried. Extremely so. Would he be able to be enough for her? What if he seemed too eager? What if he made her feel worse?

The scraping of his bar stool on the hardwoods caused him to cringe and Betty to stir. Her mop of blond hair turned to the side and he saw her sleep-addled brain taking in her surroundings before scanning the room for him.

“Time is it?” she mumbled, pushing herself up from the couch sleepily.

“Around two,” he shrugged, shuffling back into the living room and perching himself across from her on their wooden coffee table that resembled an old trunk. Not only was it sturdy, but it doubled as storage in their small city abode.

“I can’t believe I napped that long,” Betty said, her words muffled through a yawn. “You didn’t sleep?”

He decided to take his flirting up a notch as a reassurance he was all in, a luxury he noted from his blog research, not all women had.

“I may have been a little too worked up to sleep,” he said slyly. “A certain blonde planted one on me and then fell asleep on my chest. I definitely would have had some… interesting dreams had I napped.”

Betty blushed at his flirtatious banter before scooting towards the end of the couch and leaning forward, biting at her lower lip.

“Well,” she said softly. “You better get used to it because she’s going to do it again.”

“God, I hope so,” he shook his head before his lips were on top of hers. 

This kiss was soft and happy, more friendly and familiar as if they had been doing this forever and she was greeting him after a day’s work.

Pulling back he left a quick peck on the top of her nose before pulling away completely, both of them grinning a bit awkwardly at each other.

“So, now what?” she hummed happily. “Do we just do our normal roommate Saturday thing and sneak kisses in between passes in the kitchen?”

“I’m definitely into the sneaking kisses part,” Jughead simpered. “But as for normal, definitely not. Today is not normal. Betty Cooper said she loves me and that calls for a Saturday night without Netflix. Maybe dinner? I mean, can I take you to dinner?”

With an unreadable and slightly crooked smile, Betty crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Jughead Jones,” she teased. “Are you asking me on a date?”

His confidence didn’t falter at her teasing.

“Yes,” he said seriously. “I love you and you love me, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve all the bells and whistles of an actual date.”

Betty leaned forwards and pulled on his hands, yanking him over to the couch.

“You know I love our takeout and Netflix nights, right?” she asked seriously. “I don’t need-“

“I know you don’t need to go out, Betts,” he explained. “But I want to take you out. Call it the male chauvinist in me, but last night when you were dressed to go out, I wished it was me you put that dress on for.”

“You are the farthest from chauvinistic I can imagine and I mean…,” she said playfully. “I did make sure you saw me in that dress on purpose, sitting down, cross-legged and leaning over to get my purse before I left so…”

His eyes widened and she stifled a laugh behind her hand.

“You… you didn’t,” he stammered. “You were…”

He lunged for her, but she was faster, jumping up from the couch and darting to her room in a fit of giggles, before closing and locking the door.

“Nice, Cooper,” he called through the wooden barrier. “We’re going out for Italian! Be ready by eight!”

Smiling to himself he headed over to his own room to get some writing done. He suddenly felt very inspired.

Now, six days later, he still felt exhilarated and inspired. In his wildest dreams he never dared to imagine Betty could return his affections. He couldn’t wait for the next night when he could finally show the world that Betty Cooper had his heart and she had his back.

Saturday, April 28th

Caledonia Scottish Pub

Upper East Side

She had checked her appearance in the mirror at least two-hundred-twelve times before they left. It was Archie’s birthday week and Veronica had conspired to gather their group of friends for food, drinks, and a possible all-night bar crawl. 

If they did wind up bar-hopping, Betty’s first instinct was to be comfortable. She had examined the pair of black flats on her closet floor multiple times before pulling a pair of black heels down from her top shelf instead. She wore a rarely used green dress, strapless and fitted, that she hoped Jughead would appreciate.

Opening her clutch, she tossed in a pair of flats that rolled up into a tiny ball for just these occasions where you might need a two AM shoe change. With a final glance at her make-up, she opened the bedroom door and found him leaning against the counter waiting for her.

Without so much as a twitch of his jaw, his eyes trailed from her shoes, up her ankles, legs, torso, before ending at the satisfied smirk on her face.

Coughing to clear his throat a bit, he shifted his stance a bit.

“Wow… you look,” he stammered. “You, uh… new dress?”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she crooned, sauntering forward to wrap her arms around his neck, appreciating his black button-up with rolled-up sleeves in the process.

Placing his hands on her hips, he appraised her once again, this time more closely, forcing a blush to rise to her skin.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked. “For everyone to know about us?”

Betty leaned forward to crush her lips to his own, no soft preamble or pretense. Her tongue swept into his mouth, fast and quick, before separating just as quickly.

“I’m ready,” she smiled. “I don’t want to spend another night not doing that just so we can have some privacy for a little longer.”

Jughead nodded before releasing her hips. 

“Well then,” he said, pocketing his wallet from the counter. “Into the night we go.”

…..

Caledonia Scottish Pub was a definite cross between Veronica and Archie. You could tell that Veronica picked the starting location, but also that she had chosen it with her husband in mind. The back where she had reserved seating was lined with leather couches and the bar was stocked with hundreds of different whiskeys and scotches. Posh cocktails also graced the menu to please Veronica and Cheryl, while craft beers appealed more to Toni’s style. The dim lighting set the mood for a night of debauchery.

The posted “House Rules” made Jughead chuckle as they entered. While it may not be a dive-bar or a Hole-in-the-wall establishment he frequented, he could appreciate their humor.

House Rules

1\. There is no such thing as a best whisky, the best whisky is the one you love the most. Your job is to hunt this whisky down.

2\. No credit card minimum, but if you keep swiping your card all night you are wasting paper, killing trees and in the long run killing all of humanity you selfish bastard. Start a Tab!

3\. Do not ask for free drinks, heavy pours or "shots for your friend’s birthday", it's beneath you.

4\. Gentlemen, this is a lady friendly bar, if it's clear that they are not interested in you then stop talking to them. Obviously this rule does not apply to me.

  
  


Giving their names to the bouncer, Betty laced her fingers through Jughead’s and entered the crowded venue. In order to navigate their way to the back, they needed to tread single-file down a narrow strip of space between the wall and the well-stocked bar. Betty refused to let go of his hand, so he trailed behind her, fingers still linked.

Veronica greeted her with a jubilant wave from the back where she stood near platters of assorted cheeses, meats, sausages and olives. No doubt just the beginning of her plans for the night.

As the crowd thinned towards the back, Jughead stepped to her side once again and Veronica’s eyes dropped from Betty’s face down to their linked fingers, a quizzical tilt to her head accompanying a raised eyebrow at the gesture.

Betty shrugged sheepishly, a slow satisfied grin smoothing a path across her face before looking happily up at Jughead. His usually composed look now featured a goofy grin in Betty’s direction that, despite his best efforts, he could not control.

Veronica began to bop back and forth, her perfectly coiffed hair swinging back and forth at her shoulders as she clapped her hands together, drawing the attention of her husband and their other friends, who also noted the subtle gesture.

While Cheryl looked bored with the development already, and Archie looked puzzled, Toni looked smug with her arms crossed across her chest and her hip stuck out in their directions.

Betty pulled Jughead forward slowly and approached the reserved seating area their friends already occupied. For a moment no one said anything and then Toni broke the silence.

“So does this mean we don’t have to suffer through both of your pre-pubescent blushes, ‘accidental’ touches, goo goo eyes, and sad pining anymore?” she interrogated seriously. “Because that would make us so unbelievably happy.”

Betty’s jaw dropped open and Jughead's mouth flopped like a fish on a hook.

“Oh please,” Veronica said with an eye roll. “The only people who didn’t know were you two and maybe Archiekins.”

Archie tossed Veronica a dirty look that only a husband could get away with before shaking his head.

“I knew,” he said defensively. “I just never thought Jug would grow a set and say something or that Betty would ever take that big of a risk. No offense, guys.”

“Okay,” Cheryl cut in. “I’m bored.” Turning to Betty and Jughead, posture straight as ever, she opened her arms wide.

“Time to get this over with,” Cheryl groaned. “Let’s go. Kiss kiss so we can get it out of our systems and I can actually start getting my drink on before it’s last call.”

“Cheryl, it’s nine-thirty,” Toni chortled.

“Lips on lips!” Cheryl barked. “Make it official and gross before we eat.”

Betty looked up at Jughead and he shrugged at her, the same goofy smile still on his face. Leaning down, he kissed her gently but fully. He wouldn’t describe the kiss as chaste, but also it wasn’t heated either. It was perfectly public appropriate. When he pulled back he stamped another quick peck on her lips for good measure.

As their friends whooped and hollered, Toni lifted her beer glass and turned towards Archie.

“Now that we got that out of our systems,” she announced. “To the birthday boy!”

Glasses clinked all around as they downed sips of their beverages.

“What do you want?” Jughead asked, his breath warm on her ear.

“Some form of cocktail I guess,” she replied. “Choose one for me?”

Jughead lifted their linked hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before heading off towards the bar.

Feeling quite content, Betty scooted into the booth next to Veronica and began to chat with friends. This bar was much more her speed than the club the previous weekend.

Archie was chatting with some of his friends from work who Betty had met a few times and all seemed nice, so their small table was just the girls.

“So,” Toni pusher. “When did all this new-found face sucking with Jones start?”

Betty snacked on a piece of manchego off the tray in front of her, needing a moment to collect her thoughts.

“Last Saturday,” she confessed, swallowing the last bit.

“A week ago!” Veronica exclaimed. “You’ve been knocking boots with him for a whole week and didn’t bother to call and spill all the hot, sordid details?”

“It was a big shift, V!” Betty shared. “We went from best friends to boyfriend-girlfriend overnight. I needed time to adjust.”

“It was that dress from last Friday, wasn’t it?” Cheryl interrupted. “I always knew Jones was a boob man. I mean, his nickname is Jughead. Could it be more apparent?”

As they all giggled, Betty’s ‘boob man’ reappeared with two drinks in hand. A Writer’s Tears Irish whiskey for himself, which he chose for the irony, and a Perfect Storm cocktail for Betty.

Sliding into the booth next to her, the girls changed their topic of conversation. Toni began to rant about her boss while Veronica talked about incompetent interns. Jughead drowned them all out. He was just happy to have his hand on Betty’s knee.

Two hours later, the whole gang found themselves heading over to The Guthrie Inn to continue the night. Stopping at Earl’s next door to grab a quick grilled cheese to sop up the alcohol, they bypassed the line with a few words from Veronica.

Inside was warm and comfortable. The candlelit room and the excellent music gave the bar a homey yet sexy feel.

As they approached the leather seating towards the back, Archie’s friend Max gave them a wave from the back where he sat.

Archie and Max had worked construction together since Archie opened a branch of Andrews Construction here in the city. After his time promised to the Navy after high school, he had left Andrews construction in the able hands of Mr. Keller.

When his time in service had ended and he decided not to pursue it as a full-time career, Veronica was already living in the city and happily working in the fashion industry. 

While things hadn’t always been easy, they remained together throughout his different deployments and remote stationings. He felt like he owed it to them to try out city life when he was home for good.

She had helped him start up another branch of the Riverdale company and now he was a successful contractor with over a hundred employees here in the city. Jughead even picked up occasional work from him when he was in between magazines or contracts, more for something to do rather than out of necessity.

Max had been Archie’s partner and confident for two years now since the business started up.

“Max!” Veronica greeted him with a hug. “Where is Vicky?” 

“Vicky won’t be attending anymore functions with me,” he said quickly. “Apparently I work too much for her taste and don’t appreciate her needs.”

“Ouch, bro,” Archie grimaced. “She was kind of awful anyway.”

“Yeah, she was,” Toni agreed. “Oh! How about I set you up with my friend, Lydia!”

“Lydia?” Cheryl scoffed. “Please, he does not want to date her. She’s saving herself for marriage. I mean, why invest all that time when she could be a flat tire in the end?”

“Cher, baby,” Toni scoffed. “That’s completely awful to say! Lydia is so great!”

“... And there is way more to a relationship than hopping in the sack,” Jughead added, half to champion for Toni’s friend and half to make Betty feel validated.

“Oh please, you magnetic tramp,” Cheryl groaned. “Let’s not even pretend that you haven’t delighted in defiling Cousin Betty between the sheets and probably across the kitchen counter at this point.”

“Cher!” Betty cried out in disbelief. “I can’t believe you!”

Cheryl just shrugged before sipping her cocktail.

“I’ll have you know that for years Betty has fed my soul,” Jughead confessed. “And my stomach in the kitchen. Bedroom prowess is not required for love.”

Betty pecked a quick peck to his cheek in thanks as Max rose from his seat. Max had asked Betty out countless times. Archie had urged her to date him, but she hadn’t wanted to get into a complicated relationship with Archie’s business partner.

“I’m going to grab another drink,” he said quickly, noting Jughead’s hand low on Betty’s hip. “And to pick up chicks by the bar. Lydia sounds nice, but I’m in the mood for love… and not the platonic kind.”

Three hours, two more cocktails and three beers later, Betty and Jughead were feeling quite the happy buzz. They had departed The Guthrie Inn and found themselves in a pub that they had stumbled upon. No one could recall the name.

The air was musty and the walls covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves with old candelabras hanging from the ceiling. The real draw had been the pool tables and dart boards littering the back of the establishment. With enough money tossed at the owner, Veronica had ensured that they were the sole patrons using that section of the bar.

“You’ve never thrown darts?” Jughead asked Betty incredulously as they eyed up the dartboard in front of them.

“No,” Betty giggled, pressed into his side. “Do you really think Alice Cooper would allow her daughter to learn how to throw darts or play pool in preparation for hustling guys in a seedy bar one day? I was more likely to have learned needlepoint.”

Archie and Max approached, looking for a game.

“You guys in?” Archie asked. “Losers buy the next round?”

Already feeling buzzed, which was not a common occurrence for him, Jughead didn’t know if he should partake in another round, but Betty’s sparkling eyes, filled with excitement at the prospect.

“Teach me to play, Juggie?” she beamed up at him.

He knew he was gone the second she uttered, ‘Juggie’.

He didn’t say a word but nodded at Archie before taking a set of the pointed arrows from his outstretched hand. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the way Max kept eyeing up Betty in her little green dress, but he was feeling rather uncharacteristically territorial and testosterone filled.

Holding the arrow out to her, he held it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Alright, Betts,” he said. “If you’re going to play, you might as well be well-versed. I picked up a thing or two hanging around the Wyrm back in the day.”

Grabbing the feathery end of the dart, Jughead locked eyes with his girlfriend. 

“This is the flight. It’s what helps the arrow to be aerodynamic.”

Shifting his fingers up the dart, he smirked about before speaking.

“This,” he paused. “This is the shaft. This would be where you hold the dart… gently.”

Betty smiled, a challenging grin at his obvious flirtation. 

“I think I’ll be good at that part, Juggie. Hold the shaft gently. I got it,” she said, mimicking his grip on a dart of her own.

“The next long part is called the barrel and can come in multiple sizes, and the pointed part is called the tip,” he shared. “You have to be careful with the tip when you pick up the dart.”

“Naturally,” she replied, testing the sharpness against her fingertip. “You always have to be careful with the tip.”

Pulling her by her waist he directed her behind a line and pressed himself up against her.

“Make sure you also stay behind the oche,” he whispered into her ear, hands steadying her hips. 

“That’s it!” Archie’s voice cut through their banter.

They both snapped back into reality and realized they had been stepping closer with each word, their friends all watching with humorous smirks, minus Archie who looked disgusted.

“You,” he yelled, gesturing at Jughead. “You are like my brother and Betty is like my sister so hearing all… that? Not cool! So not cool! Can we just throw darts?”

Thirty minutes and three games later, it turns out Betty was a natural. 

“Okay, Betts,” Jughead pumped. “Just twenty-five points and we win again.”

Betty took a deep breath and focused. She could aim for a high number and a triple spot or the outer bullseye. To be safe, she chose a location I’m on the board in which to focus where if she veered outward from the inner bullseye, she could still potentially score enough.

Lining up her shot, she flicked her wrist back and tossed. The dart skittered through the air before planting itself in the green circle that was the inner bullseye. 

“Oh!” Betty cheered out in excitement. “We won again!”

“That’s my girl!” Jughead cheered, picking her up and spinning her around before planting his lips on her own. His kiss, which was meant to be celebratory, turned hot in moments. It was shamelessly passionate and his tongue invaded her mouth as he backed her up against the brick wall of the bar. 

They continued to kiss, full and open-mouthed, and due to the alcohol, a bit sloppily.

Realizing where they were, Betty pulled back to rest her forehead against his, her breathing heavy just as the bartenders yelled out for last call.

“I think those two have had enough,” Veronica giggled, still nodding appreciatively at them. “Maybe cash in on the drinks you won the next time. I’ll get Ubers home.”

“Someone’s getting lucky tonight,” Toni teased as she walked past them towards the bathroom.

“Doubt they will make it past the foyer,” Cheryl snarked right behind her.

Betty’s exuberance over winning quickly dwindled at her words and she shrunk back into herself, pulling herself away from Jughead and the wall.

“Betty,” he called, but Veronica’s voice interrupted him.

“Okay crew,” she declared. “ETA of the Ubers is t-minus seven minutes. Everyone pee and let’s round it up.”

With hugs goodbye and a few more photos, they all climbed into their respective cars and headed home. Their super ride was quiet. Jughead knew what was going through her head and decided to rectify it the second they were home, not in front of an Uber driver.

Betty had the keys out of her purse when they were at the end of the hall. Keying her way into the apartment took a moment longer than normal since her hand eye coordination was a little bit off since she was more than a little tipsy.

As soon as her key turned the lock and the door cracked, Jughead had her pushed through to the other side, backed-up against the now closed door, his lips sucking a purple bruise into the space above her collarbone.

“You were killing me all night,” he breathed against her skin. “The dress. The smiles. The darts.”

“Jug,” she sighed, tipping her head back more.

“I saw you get upset at what Toni said before we left,” he muttered against her, skin punctuating his words with a nip to her neck. “But there was no need. I didn’t expect anything tonight, Betty. And not because of you. Because when we do have sex for the first time, I don’t want us to be drunk and I don’t want us to be impaired. I want you to be fully willing and conscious and to remember that I’m the one who loves you.”

Betty grabbed the back of his hair and dragged his head up towards her lips. They made out violently against the door until it was too much to bear and he wrenched himself away, his chest heaving rapidly.

A few moments later, their bodies a bit more calm, they made their way down to the bedroom, Betty stumbling slightly in her heels as they went. Betty began to change into her pajamas, shorts and a tank, while Jughead opted to sleep in his boxers. 

Climbing in bed behind her, he wrapped both arms around her before kissing the tip of her head and turning off the light.

“Hey Betty?” he whispered from behind her.

“Hmm?” she replied sleepily.

“I think you should consider telling the girls, or at least Ronnie, what you’re going through. They’d be supportive and, ya know, you could girl talk and all.”

“Mmmkay, Jug,” she yawned. “I’ll think about it. Night.”

“G’night,” Betts.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those pubs are real and the pub rules are real, too. Check it out some time if you visit NYC.


	4. The Business Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead continue to be adorable, because the world needs adorable things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am AMAZED by the messages I have received from you all over this story!I love the chats we’ve had and the new friends I have made! Hearing your story and journey is so wonderful and I’m so happy that you feel excited about seeing a character represented with this issue! Don’t give up hope, my friends!
> 
> This story is definitely out of MY comfort zone as a writer- I’m not super at writing about sexy times, so an entire story focused around this issue is definitely not my forte... but I felt I needed to write it to bring awareness to the fact that things are not always smooth! For those of you who have read my other stories, you know what I mean.
> 
> Chat with me on Tumblr- @ likemereckless
> 
> Thanks to the BEST beta, and great human, @jandjsalmon

**Betty & Jughead’s Apartment**

**Sunday, April 29th**

Jughead’s phone dinged repeatedly from where it sat on the nightstand next to Betty’s bed. He ignored it the first four times, but by the fifth text at seven in the morning, he had to assume it was important. 

Behind her, he began to stir and Betty groaned into the pillow in protest. 

“Mmm, sorry,” he grumbled. “Gotta check who it is. Go back to sleep, Betts.”

Rolling over, he pulled the phone from its charger only to see five texts from Archie.

A: I think we partied too hard last night. A few of the guys called out this morning and I need to get drywall up at the Vanderwing sight.

A: You in for some extra cash?

A: I wouldn’t ask if I really didn’t need to get this done.

A: You can spoon Betty later, dude.

A: I’ll pay you double, Jug.

“Everything okay?” Betty asked, rolling over and sitting up, pulling the covers up to stay snug and warm.

“Yeah,” Jughead sighed. “Arch wants my help at once of his properties today. Apparently his crew can’t hold their liquor.”

Betty pouted and rested her head on his shoulder, snuggling into his side.

“It serves him right for dragging them all out the night before,” she said with a yawn. “Are you going to go?”

She knew the answer without having to hear a response. He always went whenever Archie called him in as an extra man just like Archie always found some work for him when he left one magazine and had a few weeks before starting at another. They took care of each other.

“I can’t leave him short-handed,” Jughead confessed, kissing the top of her head. “It should only be a couple of hours. Plus, aren’t you brunching with the girls today anyway?”

Betty had forgotten about that. Veronica had arranged brunch at one of her favorite spots for them over a week ago because she always liked to rehash a night out over French-pressed coffee and expensive French toast.

“Right,” she acknowledged. “Brunch at eleven.”

Jughead slid himself out of bed and looked at his messy mop of hair in the mirror. He really needed a haircut and he was about to say that when he saw Betty’s eyes appraising his chest in the mirror.

Smirking, he turned to face her.

“Betts,” he teased. “Are you objectifying me?”

“Yes,” she shrugged, climbing from the bed. “Is that a problem for you?”

“Usually,” he joked as Betty ran her pointed finger down his chest. “I like women to be attracted to my mind. Not my lanky limbs. But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

Wrapping her arms around him from behind, she pressed kisses across his bare back while her hands explored the definition of his muscles.

“God, I really hate Archie right now,” he groaned, turning on the spot to pull her in for a quick kiss.

“Later,” she smiled, dropping her hands. “I have to make it to brunch, too. Cheryl will never let me hear the end of it if I’m late.”

“Hey, Betty?” Jughead said softly as he began to grab his undershirt from the floor. “Just think about what I said last night… about telling the girls. You don’t have to, but I think it might make you feel better. Empowered? Is that the word I’m supposed to use when talking about woman stuff?”

Betty shook her head and laughed at him. “I’ll consider it, Jug,” she grinned. “And if I do, I’ll let you know if I feel empowered.”

  
  


Girls Brunch

Santina Restaurant

Betty was the last to arrive, but then again, she’d had the farthest to travel. She took a PATH train and still had to walk six blocks to the restaurant. At least it was a gorgeous morning.

A mimosa was already waiting for her along with a tray of assorted Danishes and treats for the table to share. Toni had declared she was starving, so before doing anything else, Betty scanned the menu and they all placed their orders.

While Betty looked a little more dewy than normal, her friends definitely looked worse for the wear. Veronica wore dark sunglasses and Cheryl popped two Advil after the waiter had departed.

“Okay, I know I say this every time we go out, but I am never drinking that much again,” Veronica lamented.

“Speak for yourself, Lightweight,” snarked Cheryl. “I, for one, did just fine. We Blossoms were built to withstand anything; fires, embezzlement scandals, alcohol consumption…”

Toni snorted from Cheryl’s side.

“Babe, you literally were yelling at me to take your pants off last night, but you were wearing a dress. So, you made me put pants on you just so I could take them off.” 

Veronica and Betty convulsed into hysterics at the slightly dismayed and perturbed look on Cheryl’s face at Toni’s recollection of their night.

“You know this means we are getting old,” Betty bemoaned. “A few drinks and we can’t even handle our brunch mimosas the next day.

“You had more than a few, B,” Toni divulged. “I’ve never seen you so much as peck a boyfriend in public and I’m pretty sure I watched your tongue touch Jones’ tonsils last night.”

As her friends howled with laughter, Betty’s skin flushed the color of a sky at sunset, her face burning.

“We tease, B,” Veronica smiled. “But we love you and are so happy. You guys are adorable.”

“Gross,” Toni added. “But adorable.”

At that moment the waiter came and set down their dishes. They immediately dug in, the miniature pastries barely making a dent in their post-party appetites.

“So, Betty,” Cheryl smirked across the brunch table from where she sat, moving her eggs Benedict around with her fork, but barely taking any bites of the expensive and well-prepared dish. “You’ve been awfully smiley since you stopped being a pathetic pushover and confessed your undying love for the ex-Serpent King. Dare I say that your unkempt, bedraggled miscreant of a boyfriend must be servicing you well.”

Choking on her bite of sourdough, Betty raised her napkin to her lips, coughing into the white linen before reaching for her glass of water and clearing her throat post-sip.

“Cheryl,” she blasted out louder than intended, blushing, then lowering her voice for the remainder of her words. “Seriously? Servicing me? What am I? An Audi?”

Cheryl tossed Betty a look of absolute horror mixed with a modicum of disgust.

“Cousin Betty, you are part Blossom,” she spat out. “So if I’m considered a Zenvo, you’re at least an Aston Martin One-77. An Audi? Please.”

“But seriously, B,” Veronica inquired, pulling off her dark glasses. “How is the...” 

She trailed off but ended her sentence with a suggestive waggle of her brows.

Betty unfolded her napkin and wiped at her lips. This was usually the part where she lied to her friends and said, “mind-blowing,” or “earth-shattering,” and when they asked for details told them she didn’t kiss-and-tell. 

Twice Jughead had suggested she come clean to put an end to the teasing that she had to confess, did get to her from time to time. Listening to their sexcapades and taunts about her lack thereof had left her eating an entire cheesecake in tears on more than one occasion, though she knew they meant no harm. Being open with Jughead hadn’t turned out too shabby. Perhaps he was right and it was time to be more open.

“Actually,” she said shakily. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you guys about something…”

.....

Betty & Jughead’s Apartment

She was on the couch curled up in a throw blanket with a thriller she had been trying to read for weeks now, but couldn’t seem to find the time to start. She had barely made it through the first chapter. Her mind kept wandering back to brunch.

She had told her best friends the entire truth about what she had been going through and there wasn’t one joke or off-color comment. Veronica had told Betty she was brave for sharing and Cheryl had held her hand. Toni seemed the most emotional of them all and had said she was proud of Betty for taking the initiative to help herself.

“Betty, I’m so sorry for all the teasing last night,” Toni swore. “If I had known…”

Betty gave her a soft, tight-lipped smile and shook her head softly. “That’s the point, Toni. You guys didn’t know. Maybe if you had things would have been smoother for me.”

They had questions about her condition and what it was like and how she and Jughead were dealing with it.

“He’s been so great,” Betty gushed. “He even did his own research and has immersed himself in the culture. I just hope I don’t disappoint him.”

“Betty,” Toni had guffawed. “That boy has loved you forever without so much as a kiss. You could never disappoint him.”

Dr. Saraswati had told her the same on Friday. She had also given her a lot to think about after their last session and she planned on bringing some of it up with Jughead later this afternoon when he got home.

“Betty,” Dr. Saraswati smiled curiously. “You seem different this week. Have you made a little more peace with your progress?”

Betty nodded at the doctor, sinking back into the squishy leather of the couch.

“I have,” she grinned. “I, um, well I told Jughead everything. About my past and the condition and my progress and he was…”

Betty shook her head, unable to find the adjective she was looking for.

“He was…” Dr. Saraswati replied, waving the hand with her pen outwards.

“He told me he loved me,” Betty gushed out. “That he was in love with me and he didn’t want me finding just anyone to start a relationship with. That maybe it could be him.”

Betty’s therapist smiled warmly at her.

“And what did you say? Did you allow change or were you afraid of it?” she asked.

“I kissed him,” Betty chuckled. “I kissed him and he kissed me back and it was… it was perfection.”

Dr. Saraswati tipped her head back and yelled out a loud, “Hallelujah!”, leaving herself and Betty laughing together.

“I’m so happy for you, Betty,” her doctor grinned. “Truly. From our years together it sounds like he truly loves you.”

“He does,” Betty nodded. “But he and I both know we have a long way to go and that it won’t be smooth sailing all the time.”

“That’s very true,” Dr. Saraswati agreed. “But you both seem to know what you are getting into. Perhaps I can make a few suggestions on where to start?”

Betty pulled out her phone and opened up the notes section. When they had first started meeting she used to bring a notepad to her appointments to jot I down suggestions or thoughts she had in case she was overwhelmed and forgot. She expected that this new branch of exploration may leave her feeling the same.

“Back to our reporting habits, I see,” her doctor smiled. “I don’t mind. It’s good to be thorough.”

Dr. Saraswati sat up a bit more and put her own notepad on the table, resting her elbows on her knees. She liked to get comfortable and relaxed before talking about new phases in Betty’s treatment to put her at ease and make the office feel less clinical and more like girl talk.

“First of all, have you continued dilating?” she asked seriously.

Betty nodded in the affirmative.

“Good,” she sighed. “You need to keep that up so your muscles don’t regress. You are actually better off than some women who I work with for this condition. You have desire and are able to become aroused, many are not, so that alone should make you feel good.”

Blushing at her words, Betty nodded. Even after all this time it was still hard for her to talk about sex with someone. She had Alice Cooper to thank for that.

“You’ll be battling your own issues though. You may still have trouble getting lubricated enough for penetration, so you’re going to need something to help with that,” she explained. “At least for a while, maybe always.”

Betty continued to jot things down.

“Also, for you, your condition came from shame and nervousness in association with sex, along with some physical trauma related to your first medical exam,” she explained. “So there are a few things you can do with your partner before you work your way up to any form of entry, even a finger. Spend time getting comfortable with him looking at your body, Betty. Touch for the sake of touch and not for the purpose of sex.”

Betty wrote down those exact words. She could do that. It took her a long time to get comfortable with her own body and she still wasn’t completely comfortable, but if she trusted anyone else as much as she trusted herself, it would be him.

“Once you get comfortable with that, you can add in touching without penetration. You’ve never been able to relax enough due to your fear of the pain to orgasm with a partner. That may be a good place to begin.”

Orgasm, Betty jotted down on her app, feeling warm at the idea of Jughead being involved.

“Once you feel comfortable with that, you may want to bring your partner into dilating with you,” she said, watching Betty’s wide eyes snap up to hers.

“It’s not sexual at that point, Betty,” she explained. “It’s about being open. You can start out with him holding you while you do it and then progress to where he can control entry if you feel comfortable. This will help you prepare for not always controlling the situation. When that works, you may want to add in other stimulation and orgasm to get used to the sensation with something inside you.”

Betty was typing furiously now and her brain was racing a mile a minute. Could she do that? She couldn’t imagine anyone watching, let alone helping her dilate. It seemed so… personal and clinical.

“I’m not going to tell you that you have to do any of that, but I can tell you it will help. Bringing him to a session here with you may help also. You’ll know when you are ready for new stages with your partner. If I’m right about him, he won’t push you and you’ll have to be ready to tell him when you are ready to move forward.”

The sound of a key in the door jarred her from her thoughts and she looked up to see Jughead walking through the door, his flannel tied around his waist with just a white tank on. He looked delicious.

Dropping his things on the counter he dragged himself over to the couch to place a quick kiss on her lips.

“You look cozy,” he purred. “Did you have a good brunch?”

Betty hummed against his lips and closed the book she wasn’t reading anyway. 

“I did actually,” she said happily. “I’ll tell you all about it after you shower.”

“Are you implying I need to shower?” he teased, standing up straight, reluctantly.

“That is exactly what I’m implying,” she said bluntly. “Now, go. I want to kiss you properly when you aren’t covered in sawdust and sweat.”

Betty swatted at him, but he dodged her advances and headed to the bathroom. He definitely needed to shower.

Turning on the water, he shed his messy work clothes and stepped into the warm water. It had been a long day and his muscles ached. Archie had bought him an Italian sub for lunch before he left and now all he wanted was to be clean and take a nap, specifically one with Betty nestled into his side.

He had spent all day trying not to punch Archie’s partner, Max, for slinging innuendo about him and Betty and how hot she looked the night before. His jaw was still tense from clenching it. Archie had been the one who ended it abruptly, reminding Max that Betty was also his best friend and that she deserved some respect. Maybe his attitude was exactly why Betty had turned him down. Jughead was grateful for Archie’s interference but hoped it didn’t affect their business relationship.

Shampooing his hair quickly, he rinsed off again before turning off the water and swinging back the curtain. Quickly, he ran a comb through his hair and brushed his teeth before towel drying his mop-top and then wrapping the towel around his waist.

Opening his bedroom door, he was surprised to find Betty laying on top of his bed, clad not in her jeans from earlier, but in one of his t-shirts.

“That shirt looks infinitely better on you,” he quipped, leaning up against his dresser. 

Blushing a bit, Betty sat up. “I didn’t think you would mind,” she said, a bit shyly.

“Oh trust me,” he grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t mind at all. I’m fact, I dreamt of this very scenario more times than I care to admit. I was planning on napping,” he said as he rummaged through his drawers. “Care to join.”

Boxers in hand, he turned back around only to find that Betty had risen from the bed and was right in front of him. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself he had already seen her topless and she took the piece of fabric from his hand and dropped his boxers back on top of the dresser from where he had just pulled them.

“I saw Dr. S on Friday,” Betty said softly. “She suggested that, when I was ready, we start things off just by being… naked. Nothing… big, just some cuddling and kissing, but for me to get comfortable, with you, like that.”

Jughead stifled a cough of surprise and excitement behind his fist before regaining his composure. 

“She suggested more,” Betty shared. “But nothing I’m ready for yet. I just-“

“Hey,” he reassured her. “You don’t need to push yourself, Betts. If this is too fast, we can slow it down.”

Betty shook her head rapidly.

“God, Jug, no,” she sighed. “I mean you’ve seen me in a towel, a barely-there swimsuit and half-naked anyway. I want- I want to see you.”

Feeling brazen she dropped her hands to the top of his towel before looking up at him through her lashes.

“Is it too much to ask of you?” Betty said hesitantly, her hands stilling.

Jughead pushed some of her hair behind her ear, his eyes soft and serious.

“No,” he whispered. “I’m nervous, too. Dreaming of your best friend naked and actually touching your best friend naked are very different. I might get… excited,” he warned her just in case. “But I don’t expect anything. I want to see you, too.”

Looking up at his face, Betty pulled at the towel on his waist, letting it drop to the floor. Jughead’s fingertips found the hem of her shirt and with her nod, he lifted it to find she had not bothered with anything underneath. For a while they both stood there in silence, taking in a moment they had waited a very long time for. She broke eye contact first, trailing her eyes down his body slowly. Taking her lead he did the same. 

In the past, Betty would have been under the covers by now with the lights off and lamps dark as well, but her relationship with Jughead had always been all-encompassing and deep. Having any darkness between them now seemed like cheating.

Neither spoke. Little puffs of breath remained the only sound in the room, though Betty was sure he could hear her pulse threading through her chest. While she had far more sexual encounters with others, none had been as intimate and intense as this and they hadn’t even touched. She expected she’d have many moments like this on their journey together.

She found him looking back at her face again, a soft, half-smile present on his lips. Lifting his hand to her hips, he guided her back to the bed and they both climbed in and under the covers.

“Is this okay?” he asked again. Betty kissed him in response.

For a long while they kissed leisurely, hands on safe spaces Iike jaws and arms. Languidly their tongues met and brushed, their kisses slowly becoming more heated. 

Betty’s hands dropped from his jaw to trail their way down his neck and chest, down to his hips and across the plain of his stomach, feeling his muscles jerk under her touch. Unable to remain still any longer, his hands slid down her arms and onto her waist before sliding up her stomach and her chest.

Slowly from there, his fingers traveled down to her hip bones. Betty pulled back from their kisses to look at him as his hands lightly grazed her hip bones before gripping into her thighs and then running back up her body again and down the slope of her back and down to her backside.

They explored and kissed for a long while until Betty pulled away and tucked her face into his neck, breathless.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered into her hair. “Just in case you couldn’t tell how I felt about that. Everything about you is more beautiful than I could have imagined.”

Betty stamped a quick kiss against his pulse and curled in closer to him. 

“I could tell,” she teased. “Are you sure you… I can…”

“I’m fine, Betty,” he chimed in quickly. “Better than fine.”

They lay for a while with a few lingering caresses and soft kisses. When their bodies had calmed, they drifted off into sleep.

.....

**Thursday, May 3rd**

Jughead had been having the worst week. On Sunday night his boss had called frantically, ranting about his co-worker, Jeff, and his inability to meet a deadline. He knew he could rely on Jughead to get a job done, and before the next issue went to print, he needed to fill a large gap that Jeff had left.

Jughead had offered up ideas, but his boss, Henry, had insisted he go out of town to a middle-of-nowhere town in Pennsylvania to cover a spring fair that he thought might shed some light and color on small, country customs for big city readers.

Travel arrangements had been made and he had a rental car from Monday through Thursday to drive out, talk to the coordinators, and stay for the opening night. 

This was not his usual beat. While he was dealing with his book publishers on releasing his first novel in the upcoming months and working on a second novel they had already commissioned, he mostly wrote food pieces, human interest stories, and tales of unappreciated New York City. Pig races and tractor pulls were not in his repertoire.

Not only was it four days in the middle of a cornfield, but it was also four days without Betty. She had sat on the edge of his bed, folding clothes as he tossed them towards his duffle bag from his closet.

“...the flier said twelve different flavors of corn,” he cried. “Not meat, Betty. Corn. Vegetables. Why do you need flavored corn?”

“Maybe it’s like their cotton candy?” she suggested, trying to bring his mood up.

Truthfully, she was sad, too. They hadn’t slept a single night apart since they had come clean about their feelings and she had very quickly gotten used to his body heat and the weight of his arm around her. Independent woman, indeed.

Folding another t-shirt, she slid the stack into his bag along with a few pairs of rolled-up socks he had stacked there before.

Closing the closet doors, he tossed one last item, a hat, into the bag before taking a deep breath, hands on his hips. 

“I think that’s everything,” he said breathlessly, not from exertion, but from his non-stop complaining about the assignment for the past thirty minutes.

“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Betty offered. “Maybe you’ll love me even more after four days away.”

“Not possible,” he’d assured her.

Now, he was finally home. Lugging his bag down their hallway, he smelled the heavenly aromas of barbecue sauce and chocolate and tossed up a silent prayer that one or both were wafting out of his unit.

Opening the door, the scent was stronger and he smiled as he saw Betty in the kitchen, singing as she stirred a pitcher of burgundy liquid.

“Please tell me you aren’t cooking for a shelter, work, or church fundraiser, and that whatever that mouth-watering smell is there is plenty to share,” he moaned out, announcing his presence.

Betty turned from the counter and smiled brightly, putting the oversized spoon down before running over and tossing her arms around his neck. His bag hit the floor with an audible thump and his arms flew around her back, pulling her in tight.

“I missed you,” she said, her words muffled into his chest. 

Pulling back, she dragged him into the kitchen and ordered him to sit at their small dining table. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Betty said as she grabbed a tray from the counter. “I figured you didn’t eat great while you were gone. I was going to cook, but I was getting off work too late so I thought this would work, too.”

On a large platter, Betty had arranged the main dish and side dishes into little bowls and plates. St. Louis style ribs, mac & cheese, hush puppies, and frickles decorated the platter, steaming hot and ready to go. Placing the tray down, she grabbed the pitcher of Sangria she had just been stirring along with a pitcher of iced tea she had made earlier and had left chilling in the fridge.

Placing the pitchers down, she couldn’t help but laugh at Jughead’s bug eyes as he took in the meal before him.

“Have I told you that I love you?” he asked, before digging in.

Betty allowed herself to indulge as well, enjoying the rich flavors immensely, but gaining the most satisfaction from watching Jughead devour almost everything.

“Save room for dessert,” she teased as he scooped a third helping of mac & cheese from the bowl. “I baked brownies and got ice cream and hot fudge to top them with.”

She was pretty confident that he was drooling after that.

Throughout the meal, he filled her in on middle-of-nowhere PA, Ollie’s Diner where most of his meals came from, and the fair festivities.

“I kid you not, Betts,” he said between bites of frickles. “They actually spin a flat wheel with holes in it and drop a mouse on top and whatever color cup he falls into wins. This is actual life.”

He had also regaled her with tales of how the mayor came to personally greet him and had him try all twelve flavors of corn they had bragged about.

“Brown sugar just does not belong on corn,” he had shared with a shake of his head.

“So what will your piece be like?” Betty had asked. “Exploiting the oddities of rural America?”

Jughead shook his head as he ate.

“Honestly, the people were great. They were proud of their products and their farms and welcomed me whole-heartedly. I think the piece is going to focus, yes, on some of the more interesting fair customs, but mainly the pride they have for their country, state, and farms.”

“That sounds perfect, Jug,” Betty praised. “Your boss was right in sending you out there. Some writers wouldn’t be as kind.”

She insisted he go and unpack after they ate while she did the dishes. He had protested, but she had claimed that since she didn’t actually cook, it was okay for her to clean up. 

A bit later, she poked her head in to see how it was going.

“Ready for the next part of re-acclimate Juggie to NYC?” she asked a bit shyly. 

“Oh, Betty,” he groaned, closing his top drawer. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I may need an hour before I can devour a brownie sundae.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of relaxation,” she explained. “I drew us a bath.”

“I haven’t taken a bath in- wait did you say ‘us’?” he asked incredulously, tossing the rest of the clothes in his hands into a pile on the floor, and following her devilish grin down the hall.

As he entered the bathroom, Betty was already stripped down and stepping into the tub. He noted that their Sangria glasses were full and propped along the edge of the tub. He watched in awe as she pulled the elastic from her hair and shook it loose, before lowering herself into the warm water, leaving space for him behind her.

Stripping in record time, he stepped into the tub behind her and pulled her back against his chest, her body relaxing into him.

“If this is what baths are like, I’ve seriously been missing out,” he joked to break any tension she had before drifting his hands up to settle on her stomach. He felt the muscles twitch under his touch and a slight, self-satisfied smile inked its way across his face.

“I can feel that grin, Smuggie,” she berated him.

“Smuggie?” he echoed back.

“Yes, a Smuggie is a Smug Jug,” she explained very matter-of-factly.

“And is there something in particular that you think may be making me a bit Smug, Betts?” he asked, laughing as she splashed a bit of water back at him and tilted her head to pull him down for a quick kiss.

He didn’t let go. What she had intended to be a peck, turned into open mouths clashing together after days of missing the other. His hands ran down over her thighs and up across her chest as she reached both of her hands back to hold his face to her own.

Things grew heated quickly as his lips trailed down her neck and back. Pausing to nip under her ear, he pressed his lips up against it to whisper, “Let me touch you.”

Betty stilled beneath him and turned in the tub to straddle his lap. It’s not like she hadn’t spent the whole week with him gone imagining just this: his hands on her body and hers on his, her name falling from his lips. He had agreed to take things as slowly as she wanted, but at this very moment, she wanted nothing more than to explore him.

“This is about you relaxing, Jug,” she breathed, reaching between them locking eyes and silently asking for permission to touch him. 

Jughead cupped her jaw and kissed her, his actions being all the confirmation she needed. She paused only for a moment, knowing that this would cross a new, unspoken threshold in their relationship. In the past, Betty had done things out of a feeling of obligation, but with Jughead she wanted this type of closeness and intimacy. With a surge of confidence, she began to move her hand.

His reaction was immediate and his head fell forward against hers as his breath came panting out rapidly. Betty found a sensitive spot on his neck to nip while she kept up a steady motion underwater. 

“Betty, you don’t have to…” he stuttered and she shook her head lightly.

“I want to,” Betty whispered, sucking a bruise into his skin.

“Fuck, Betty,” he stuttered as her teeth skimmed his neck. “I can’t- I can’t believe that it’s really you with me. This is like a dream. I can’t-”

“It’s real, Jug,” she cooed, kissing him again. “I love you.”

At her words, he was done. His body tensed beneath her and he latched onto her lips in a messy, wet kiss, drawing it out with lighter, smaller ones.

When his brain was functioning again he looked up at her only to find a wide smile on her face.

“Now who’s the smug one?” he joked, before pausing for a moment. “Betty, can I…?”

She shook her head gently. “I- I want you to,” she shared nervously. “Very much so. But I won’t be able to see your hand underwater and that makes me nervous.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak again, so he waited, letting her gather her thoughts.

“Also,” she choked out. “Also, I’ve never… I’ve never been able to… finish with someone else.”

Jughead remained quiet, silently stroking her shoulders delicately and comfortingly.

“Do you trust me?” he purred.

Betty’s eyes widened and a sad look crossed her face. “You know I do, Juggie. This isn’t about that.”

“Let’s get out of the tub,” he said softly. “ I have an idea, but you can always say no and I won’t press you.”

Standing, he climbed out first, offering Betty a hand to help her out as well. Grabbing towels, he wrapped her up in the thick, white fluffy fabric before drying himself off as well. 

His room was closer, but he dragged her down to her room instead hoping that her own surroundings would make her feel more comfortable. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he pulled her down into his lap.

“I was reading some blogs while I was away and then just put some of it together with what you said in the tub,” he explained. “Do you think you’ve never been able to… finish because you were worried about pain? That they would try and finger you?”

Betty blushed and pushed her face into his neck, but he pulled her back gently.

“Open discussion, Betts,” he said firmly. “We have to talk through these things. Forget what Alice branded into your mind. There is nothing wrong with sex.”

Betty bit her lower lip and nodded. “Yes,” she breathed out. “Someone would always try at some point and I’d tense up and the pain would be...intense... and that would be that.”

“You trust me,” he stated. “What if you went into it this time knowing that in no circumstance would I try and do that. Everything would just be about stimulation. Would that help?”

“I don’t know,” Betty whispered nervously. “Dr. S. did say that was the next step, but I don’t know. I think I’d- I’d like to try… with you.”

Taking a deep breath, Betty rose from his lap and he pulled on the loose knot until she dropped her towel. She moved to lay down on her bed but he stopped her, moving himself to sit back against her pillows instead and gesturing for her to lay back against his chest.

Betty quirked a curious brow at him and he smiled warmly.

“If you lay on your back you won’t be able to see my hand and you may be more anxious,” he explained. “This way you can see and control everything.”

Betty’s body sagged against his and tears sprang to her eyes. Whatever she had done to deserve someone so thoughtful, she would never know. 

Settling back against his chest, he tipped her chin up to kiss her, allowing his hands to slowly start exploring her body again. He laved kisses down her neck and pinched at her breasts, dragging his hands down her abdomen before stroking her thighs. When he felt her leg muscles loosen against his, he hooked his legs under hers, pulling them out just slightly to give himself more room.

“Tell me to stop,” he reminded her, kissing the side of her cheek and then his hand was on her.

In all his ten years of pining, he couldn’t have imagined how deep this would feel; the trust she put in his hands made things that much more beautiful. He waited to feel her tense beneath him, but she remained relaxed against his chest. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted back towards him, her breath coming in quick little pants.

“Juggie,” she moaned, arching her back against him a bit. 

“I’m going to dip a little lower for a second, Betts to add some wetness and make things smoother, but I promise I won’t go any further.”

Betty’s eyes widened and her hips jolted as he began to rub at her in tight little circles. From this angle, he could watch the flush creep up her skin and a thin sheen of sweat form on her. He could tell she was holding back from the slight noises and squeaks that slipped out from her lips every once in a while, but he wasn’t going to press her on that… yet.

He could feel her legs shaking against his and knew she was close. Betty couldn’t believe her body was cooperating. It had been years since she had allowed anyone to touch her and she felt as if she’d burst.

Changing his strokes, Betty’s wide eyes met his and her hand gripped his wrist as tremors wracked her body. He helped her ride it out before removing his hand and turning her chin to kiss her again.

After a moment, Betty turned in his arms, placing soft kisses across his lips, her eyes wet and happy, before nestling herself into his chest.

“You alright, Betts?” he asked, stroking at her hair.

She lifted her head, a slow devilish smile drawn across her face.

“That was so much better than doing it on my own,” she laughed, her pure joy overflowing into him and he couldn’t help but join in. “Now you have the right to be smug.”

“I know something that will make this night even better,” Jughead said, rising from the bed and tossing her his t-shirt while he slipped on his boxers, signaling he’d be right back. A few moments later he returned with two bowls filled with brownies, ice cream, and hot fudge as Betty had promised earlier.

“Ice cream and orgasms,” Jughead mumbled through a full mouth as he climbed back in bed. “I don’t think it gets much better than that.”

Betty giggled and grabbed a bowl from his hands. They resumed their position from earlier as they ate their dessert, the conversation and laughs flowing late into the night.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try and update every 4 days or so because I’m super impatient as a reader and don’t like to keep you hanging!! Lol.


	5. The Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead accompanies Betty home to Riverdale for Mother’s Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More progress here in this chapter, but a LONG way to go before they can finally reach their goal. Stick with me and keep reading! 
> 
> I’ve been moving this story along and giving you timelines and trying to keep the angst light. There will be some downs and disappointments and tears at some point, but in reality, this fic is way more upbeat than the real life situations people face. Just wanted to share that!
> 
> Chapters 6/7 are two of my fave and I can’t wait to post them!!!
> 
> Many thanks to @jandjsalmon for the edits!  
> Follow/chat with me on Tumblr: @likemereckless

**Saturday, May 13**

**Riverdale**

Jughead cut the car’s engine as they pulled up in front of a house he was familiar with. He had eaten on the herringbone china, sat on the unstained, tan couches, and used the expensive floral scented soap in the bathroom there many times.

What he had never done was walk through the door of one-hundred-eleven Elm Street as Betty Cooper’s boyfriend.

After his arrival home from his work trip a week and a half ago, they had ventured into new territory. Not only was it a shift since they had been friends for so long, it was a whole new side of intimacy for Betty. She had told him all of what her therapist mentioned andJughead had suggested they didn’t talk about venturing any further for a while, just getting comfortable with each other and this newness in regards to touching. And there had been  _ a lot _ of touching.

She had told their friends she was sick and he was taking care of her, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The entire weekend was spent curled up reading together, cooking, another bath which they wound up being able to finish this time, and a lot of time in bed exploring. That Sunday night when he said he couldn’t wait for the following weekend she frowned.

“I have to go to Riverdale next weekend, Jug,” Betty lamented. “Sunday is Mother’s Day and as crazy as Alice Cooper is, I always spend the weekend there and we do brunch. Polly, Paul, and the kids come, too.”

He hated the thought of being separated for more than a few hours, let alone a whole weekend, so when Betty said he was welcome to come he had agreed right away, not even considering what a weekend with Alice would entail.

“Are you ready?” Betty asked, squeezing his hand from the passenger seat that was still white-knuckled against the gear shift.

“Am I ready to enter the seventh layer of hell?” he asked. “I think I’m more ready for parachute pants to make a comeback than to see your mother’s face when she finds out we’re dating.”

“Aww, Juggie,” she giggled. “She’ll be fine. You got the right stuff, baby.”

With a roll of his eyes, Jughead took a deep breath. He was ready for a weekend with teas, antiquing, finger sandwiches, and a lot of passive-aggressive snark.

When they climbed from the car, Betty laced their fingers together. He had grabbed their shared duffle bag from the back seat on his way around the car and saddled it over his shoulder as they climbed the front steps.

Before they could ring the bell, the front door flew open and Alice Cooper’s thousand-watt smile greeted them, ushering them in.

“Betty,” she smiled, pulling her daughter in for a tight hug. “I missed you. You haven’t been home since Christmas!”

Giving her a final squeeze, she set her sights on Jughead, looking him over from shoes to hair.

“Jughead.” She pulled him in for a hug as well. “I haven’t seen you in forever. You’ve grown up quite well.”

“Mom!” Betty admonished her, embarrassed by her mother’s lack of filter. 

“Oh, Betty,” Alice chuckled. “Don’t be so serious! I’m just saying that he looks handsome.”

It had been about four years since he had seen Betty’s mother, aside from the Andrews’ wedding where, as the Best Man, he hadn’t had much opportunity to visit. Whenever she’d come to see Betty in New York, he’d make himself scarce and shack up with Archie and Veronica for a few days.

“Thanks, Mrs. C,” he said kindly. “Is there somewhere I can put this bag?”

“Stick it in Betty’s old room,” she told him. “I don’t think I’m far off in assuming you’ll be sharing since you walked hand in hand into my house and since you’re roommates are probably bedmates anyway.”

“Oh my gosh, Mom!” A horrified Betty blushed furiously as Jughead excused himself up the stairs, thankful to have somewhere else to be if only for a moment.

Betty’s room looked pretty much the same as he remembered. There were still Riverdale High souvenirs on the wall and photos of him along with Veronica, Kevin, and Archie scattered about. Tossing the bag on the bed, he took a deep breath and headed back downstairs.

“... but you  _ are  _ on birth control,” he heard Alice say sharply. “Aren’t you, Betty? Just in case?”

“I am  _ not _ having this conversation right now, Mom,” she insisted. “I’m happy. Just let me be happy for now.”

“I am happy for you,” Alice said exasperated. “But whether you choose to recognize it or not, we’ve all known you’ve had it bad for the Jones boy for years and that gets him a one-way ticket into your pants, Betty. You are only twenty-five. You don’t need to be a mother yet.”

Jughead stomped down the stairs a bit more clumsily than necessary to announce his presence and hopefully save Betty from the awkward interrogation her mother was holding.

“So, Mrs.- Alice,” he stammered. “Got anything to eat? It was a long drive and I’m starving.”

With one last pointed look at Betty, Alice turned to Jughead and grinned, placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him into the kitchen. 

“Your appetite hasn’t changed I see, Jughead,” she said with a shake of her head. “Come sit and I’ll make some lunch and you can tell me all about how you two stopped playing ostrich and finally wound up dating.”

Three salami sandwiches and four chocolate chip cookies later, he finally finished the story, a completely falsified version of the actual truth.

“So then I decided that I couldn’t stand seeing her have another girls night out and risk some other guy making her happy,” he said sweetly, Betty tossing him a glance from her mother’s side that said, ‘really?’

He grinned. “I told her I love her and here we are.”

“Well,” Alice said, rising to clear the dishes. “I guess the  _ how  _ isn’t that important as long as it happened.”

Loading up the dishwasher, Alice wiped her hands on an apron before addressing them again.

“So, what do you kids have planned for tonight?” 

Betty looked between her mother and Jughead, her face muddled with confusion. 

“I just thought we’d hang out here with you,” Betty shrugged. “We did come here to see you for the weekend.”

“Yes,” Alice agreed. “You did. And I am so happy to have you home. However, I may have dinner plans already. A date, actually. So you should go enjoy your night as well.”

Betty almost spit her water out across the table. 

“A date?” she said, an astonished look in her eyes. “With who? You never said you were seeing someone!”

“I’m the mother,” Alice reminded her. “I don’t have to tell you I’m seeing anyone. And I’d rather not talk about the ‘who’ part just yet. I’m sure you two wouldn’t mind some Pop’s anyway.”

Jughead couldn’t disagree there. Having a night without Betty’s family  _ and  _ Pop’s was something he hadn’t anticipated, but was not at all upset about.

“We could always surprise your dad, Jug,” Betty said thoughtfully. “We are in town so maybe you’d want to say hello.”

Alice’s eyes widened before she caught herself.

“I would call first, Jughead,” she suggested to them. “I’ve run into FP a few times and he’s been working a lot of night shifts. I’m sure he’d love to see you at some point, though.”

The rest of the early afternoon passed quickly as they caught up on their current projects for work, their friends, and Alice updated them on Polly and the kids before their arrival the next day. Jughead was surprised at how well the conversation flowed and how welcoming Alice had been. Granted he was not a teenage gang member anymore hanging around her perfect daughter, but a grown, successful man who was able to support himself, and Betty, if need be.

Later in the afternoon, Alice had excused herself from their company. She had some errands to run at the pharmacy, grocery store, and a local gift shop. Betty had offered to tag along, but after the long drive in from the city, Alice could see she was tired and suggested she nap.

With the house to themselves, Jughead wasn’t about to complain. They had headed upstairs and Betty had gone into the bathroom while Jughead had taken off his jeans and flopped down onto her bed. 

When he was in high school he spent many years fantasizing about what went on in Betty Cooper’s bedroom. Now, as a twenty-five-year-old man, that sounded completely dastardly, but at fifteen, it was just what his hormones insisted.

Betty emerged from the bathroom and grinned at his prone form. 

“You look cozy,” she teased. “Is there even room for me in my own bed?”

Jughead sat up and let his legs hang over the side of the bed, crooking a finger to call her over.

“I can be persuaded to make room,” he said suggestively. “But due to spacing issues, you may have to remove a few layers of clothes.”

“Does that line ever work, Jug?” Betty asked, biting her lip as she smiled down at him.

“Not sure,” Jughead shrugged as his fingers found the waist of her jeans and deftly unbuttoned the little ball of brass there before pulling down the zipper. “I’ll let you know later.”

Helping her from her jeans, he tugged her down into the bed and wrapped one leg over her hip, pulling her in close, and burying his nose in her neck.

“You smell nice,” he groaned, nipping at her tendon gently.

“I thought we were napping,” Betty said with a sigh.

“We were,” he muttered into her neck, kissing his way up her jaw. “But then I saw the tiny scrap of fabric you call underwear and all thoughts of sleep flew out the window. Not to mention- and not to sound gross- but as a teenager, I had so many dreams about you in this bed and your scary mother isn’t here right now.”

“Really?” Betty grinned mischievously. “Tell me about what adolescent Juggie dreamed about because I always thought it was just burgers.”

“To be fair,” he conceded, pulling away from her jaw. “It _was_ _mostly_ burgers. But some nights when I was alone, or especially when I lived with Archie, you were so close, I’d think about you…”

Betty’s heart was racing a bit. Sometimes she couldn’t believe how much she responded to just his voice, especially after years of self-isolation in the love department.

“What would you think about,” she pressed gently, running her thumb across his bottom lip. “I would never have pictured a brooding loner, teenage Jug to have those kinds of thoughts.”

Jughead stared down at her with a look that she could only call predatory.

“I may have been a brooding loner, but I was still a teenage boy with a beautiful best friend,” he whispered, inching her t-shirt up her stomach. “I’d think of kissing you. How I’d work up the courage to come over here and just lock my lips on yours.”

His large hands found their way to the base of her rib cage where they sat, heavy and warm, her muscles jumping beneath them.

“Sometimes I’d lay across the street on my air mattress and think about the day,” he added, pushing her shirt the rest of the way up before dropping his lips to her collarbone to nip at the skin there. 

“I’d think about us being alone in the newspaper office. You’d be arguing with me about covering a football game and I’d just finally have enough,” he groaned out, pulling the cups of her bra down and kissing his way down her body, teeth and tongue leaving a burning trail down her skin.

“So I’d grab you and drop you on top of your desk,” he shared with a nip of his teeth on her skin.

Kissing his way down her stomach, he paused to look up at her. Betty was flushed and flustered, her eyes wide and her breathing erratic. He smiled, a devilish grin at her state, pleased with himself.

“Then I’d imagine that I kneeled one front of you and pushed against your knees, sliding your skirt up to your hips,” he breathed against her belly-button before he began kissing lower to the edge of her skimpy lace fabric. “And I’d put my mouth on you and you’d fall back on the desk, finally left unable to speak.”

As he began to lower himself down, Betty grabbed at his arm to stop him.

“Jug,” she said breathlessly. “You don’t need to… We don’t…”

“You don’t want me to?” he said, surprised. “Because I’d  _ really _ like to, Betty.”

“I don’t,” Betty began, once again embarrassed and nervous. “I’ve never…”

“No one?” he asked shocked, his fingers drawing little circles on the inside of her thigh that tickled just right.

Betty shook her head and turned crimson, unsure if she was embarrassed by the act itself or her inexperience.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. Not ever, Betty,” Jughead whispered. “But you don’t have to be shy with me and I want to taste you. Please?” 

Her body was tense and she was quite anxious, but half of her problem was getting over the idea that sex was inappropriate or wrong. She had already come far in that respect and she trusted him. With a barely-there nod of her head, she agreed and took a deep breath to settle herself.

Jughead turned his head to kiss both of her thighs and smoothed his hands down her stomach to her hips. Pulling the pink lace down her legs he settled himself back down again.

Betty was on fire. She was keenly aware that no one had ever been this close to her most private areas, let alone Jughead. She squirmed beneath his gaze, uncomfortable with the adoration she saw in his eyes as he took her in. Then, without warning, his mouth, hot and wet, was on her and her hips were airborne.

He had been prepared for that and one hand anchored her back down to the mattress as he tongued his assault. As promised every time, he stuck with stimulation and never tried to enter her, fueled in his quest by the small sounds and squeaks she was trying to hold back.

As her body relaxed, he hooked one leg over his shoulder for better access and pulled her hips closer, applying more pressure and suction, taking his time to draw things out and make it good. He kept his eyes glued to her face, gauging what she liked based on her expressions. He could tell he was doing something right when her fingers clenched the sheets tightly and her back arched. He wasn’t prepared for how virile he felt with her gripping his hair and his name dripping racily from her normally quiet lips.

Within minutes, she was caterwauling and calling his name, her head tossed back and her jaw dropped open.

He gave her a few moments to settle, just stroking at her legs and stomach, before climbing back up the bed and stealing her lips in a searing kiss.

Her legs felt useless and her body drooped as she listlessly kissed him back. 

“Was that okay?” he asked softly, as he pulled back to peck a kiss on her nose. He was confident her body had enjoyed it, but was now concerned about her mental status.

“I feel like a cooked mozzarella stick, Jug,” she laughed. “I’m not even sure if my leg muscles will ever work again. That was… you were…”

“Speechless,” he said triumphantly. “I  _ was  _ right all those years ago. It would have worked!”

“Now,” Betty grinned. “I believe it’s time I returned the favor.”

Jug shook his head and went to stop her, but Betty turned and pushed him down into her previously prone position, her eyes daring him to argue.

“Have you ever done that?” he asked, as Betty nodded in the affirmative.

“It’s what good church-going girls do best,” she teased. “It’s always the quiet ones. Now, get ready for a ride, Jug.”

**Sunday, May 14**

They had ventured out the previous night, but only for some burgers, shakes, and juvenile necking at Pop’s. Other than that they had sequestered themselves to bed, watching movies on Jug’s laptop and reminiscing over Betty’s old high school scrapbook.

Now, as Jughead stood in the middle of an antique shop with Betty, Alice, and Polly, after a brunch of tiny danishes and some quiche, his stomach rumbled and he wished he could have had an excuse, maybe twins, like Polly’s husband had. Those kids were probably somewhere on a tablet, headphones in, while he relaxed back on the couch eating actual food. 

Jughead was less lucky. He wondered how many tiny stores he could walk in to look at teacups and vases without Alice actually ever buying anything. Betty kept squeezing his hand and offering him sympathetic looks as he nodded and agreed that the china vase looked absolutely like the one in Shakespeare in Love.

“So, Jughead,” Polly gushed while looking at an antique doll carriage. “Since us Cooper women are so great at getting knocked-up, you may want to check out one of these while we shop.”

“Polly,” Alice admonished. “Please. If anything he should look at rings. We don’t need  _ another  _ unwed and pregnant Cooper woman to add to this family’s track record.”

Jughead looked as if Pop Tate had just set a Cesar salad down in front of him when he ordered a burger. He had a deer-in-headlights look to him, and he was about to spew quiche all over a two-thousand-dollar porcelain doll that was something out of a nightmare.

“Mom,” Betty said, linking her arm through Jughead’s own. “I think we are going to run across the street and get Juggie a snack. He hasn’t eaten in two hours and you  _ know  _ his appetite.”

“I  _ bet  _ he has an appetite little sister,” Polly said suggestively, eying the two of them.

“Polly,” Alice gasped before a grin spread across her face, both women dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“What? You’ve seen him eat. They say the way a man eats tells you  _ a lot  _ about him and he definitely savors his snacks,” Polly explained.

“I hope the snack you’re referring to isn’t your sister,” Alice laughed with a hand on Polly’s shoulder. “I’d definitely say he looks at Betty like less of a snack and more like dessert. Perhaps a cake he’d like to unlayer.”

“Okay, and we are gone. See you back at the house.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, little sister!” Polly yelled after them.

Betty practically dragged a silent and stunned Jughead from the shop and down the street to the local pizzeria. Pushing him into a booth, she couldn’t help but bite her lip to suppress a laugh at the stunned expression on his face.

“I’m so confused and possibly a bit mortified,” he muttered. “I don’t know what happened exactly but I do know we can get married, I can’t knock you up, and your mother thinks I look at you like I do chocolate layer cake, which, quite frankly is disturbingly accurate.”

“They were teasing, Jug,” Betty reassured him. “You don’t need to worry about babies or marrying me. You  _ can  _ however keep looking at me like dessert though. I’ve been reaping the benefits of that. Now let me buy you some pizza. You must be starving.”

Betty had ordered herself a slice of plain pizza and Jughead three slices of meat lovers pie. They ate quietly for a while, sharing a soda and making goo-goo eyes over the straw. Toni was right. They were a bit gross together. 

“Jug,” Betty challenged him over the top of the soda cup. “I can feel you thinking. What is it?”

Chewing the last bit of crust on his second slice, he swallowed and wiped the grease off his face with a napkin.

“I don’t want you to think,” he paused, unsure where to begin. “What Polly and your mom said…”

“Spit it out, Juggie,” she urged him, taking a sip of their Coke.

“If I ever did knock you up, I’d stay, you know?” he said quickly. “And I’d marry you, but not  _ because _ I knocked you up. It wouldn’t be for that reason. And I do think you’re a snack or dessert or whatever, but like also that’s not the only reason that I love you and…”

“Jughead,” Betty interrupted, shaking her head. “I love you, too. Now shut up and eat your pizza.”

Sharing a grin over his last slice which he barely tasted as he swallowed, he stole the soda cup from her and slurped at the last sips. Though it had only actually been a few weeks, it emotionally felt like a relationship of years to him. He was so far gone.

Only Betty Cooper could dim the taste of pizza.

They arrived back at the house shortly after Alice and Polly. As Jughead predicted, Polly’s husband was getting lectured for allowing the kids to spend hours playing video games online while he watched baseball on the sofa.

Jughead just raised an eyebrow and gestured over towards them while glancing at Betty as if to say, “I told you so.”

As if she could sense their spectating, Polly turned and shot them a death glare, sending them running into the dining room, silently laughing.

“Wow, Polly definitely inherited your mother’s death glare,” Jughead teased, wrapping his arms around her from behind as they looked out the back window.

“You never know,” Betty shrugged. “Maybe I have the death glare gene, too. Care to find out?”

“I’d rather keep you happy,” Jughead chuckled. “I think I received enough Cooper death glares in high school to last a lifetime.”

Betty turned in his arms and wrapped them around his neck, leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him softly a few times, pulling back between each kiss before burying her face in his neck.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she exhaled into his collar. “It means a lot to me and I think to my Mom as well.”

He ran a hand up and down her back as she pulled back to look up at him. “Anytime,” he grinned. “It was nice actually. It was different being Betty Cooper’s boyfriend that might knock her up instead of that teenage, motorcycle riding hoodlum that might knock her up.”

Betty bit her lip and smacked him before letting him go. “I’m going to pack our stuff. I’ll be back down in a few.” 

With one last kiss, she headed back upstairs to pack. Jughead watched her leave, unaware of the eyes watching them from the kitchen. The sound of a mug hitting the counter startled him and he turned to find Alice watching him with a soft smile on her face.

“Tea?” she asked, and he shook his head to decline. 

Picking up her mug she walked into the dining room, only to put the cup down again before wrapping him in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Jughead,” Alice said sincerely.

“I was happy to come,” Jughead answered quickly, confused by the affection.

“No,” Alice explained. “Thank you for Betty. I haven’t seen her this happy in a very long time and it’s clear as day how much she loves you.”

As Alice released him, Jughead shifted uncomfortably and shoved his hands in his pockets until he heard Betty come back down the stairs with their bag.

After more hugs goodbye and promises of visits, Jughead picked up the bag to head out to the car.

“You take care of her, Jughead,” Alice called as they headed down the walkway.

“He always does, Mom,” Betty smiled back as he tossed their bag in the trunk.

Betty had settled back against the passenger seat as they cruised through the town, passing the “Riverdale! A town with pep!” sign. Jughead couldn’t help but notice the relaxed state of her shoulders and the slight grin on one side of her upturned lips and was proud to know that he was part of the reason it was there.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. The Beach House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead take much needed beach vacation with friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and sticking with me! I’ve been stuck in the house since early March, so there’s a lot of little travel in this story since I’m antsy to get out!
> 
> Thanks to jandjsalmon for her edits and advice!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr for updates and fix recs @likemereckless.

**Sunday, July 2nd**

**‘** **_Dune Our Thing_ ** **’**

**Lodge Beachfront Home**

May and June passed in an absolute flash. Jughead’s upcoming book release coupled with his magazine commitments and pick-up work for Archie kept him in a constant state of motion. 

Betty had been kept on her toes by her editor as well. She had been partnered with another journalist, Amanda Morris, investigating abuse allegations linked to the fashion community in New York. Amanda had been chosen since she was already linked to the fashion world, covering that beat for their feature section. 

Normally Betty covered hard news, but since this story overlapped, and because she had connections with Veronica, her editor had teamed them up together. They had spent late nights at events and early mornings tracking down models and designers at photoshoots. The piece was still ongoing and she was absolutely exhausted.

With the industry being pretty quiet over the Fourth of July holiday, Veronica had suggested that they all spend a few days off the grid and by the ocean and the Lodge beach house, cleverly named “ _ Dune Our Thing _ ,” by Veronica.

The house was easy to feel relaxed in. Soft cream walls and sea blues and greens decorated the large yellow abode, a wrap-around porch with rocking chairs looking out at the dunes, seagrass, and the bay beyond. The other side of the peninsula boasted the ocean, but they had chosen to build where it was quiet and less crowded, making their home a private oasis.

Betty had visited the property only once before with Veronica and Archie. This time, Cheryl and Toni wouldn’t be joining them until Tuesday because Toni was unable to get Monday off of work.

“B and Jughead,” Veronica called. “Archiekins and I will take the ‘ _ Beach Haven _ ’ room at the end of the hall and I’m putting Cheryl and Toni in the room I used to love when I was a teen, ‘ _ Absolute Beach _ .’”

“Does everything around here have a name?” Jughead asked, confused but greatly amused at all the puns.

“That’s how shore houses work, Jughead,” Veronica snarked. “When something is so fabulously wonderful, it deserves a name.”

“Where do we go, V?” Betty asked excitedly.

“You two get the room down the other end of the hall, it’s called ‘ _ Shore to Please _ .’” Veronica smiled at them.

“But, V,” Betty said with a shake of her head, a bit confused by the arrangements. “Isn’t that your-”

“Pshhh!” Veronica silenced her, also shooting Archie a look telling him to wipe the confusion off his face. “It is the master, and yes, it’s usually where Archiekins and I stay, but you’ve been stressed and I want you fully pampered this weekend.” 

Betty hugged Veronica tightly and squished her friend to her chest. 

“Your smallest guest room is nicer than any hotel I’ve ever stayed in, V,” she tried to assure her friend. “You can have your space back.”

Veronica shook her head sweetly, before tugging Archie down the hall.

“It’s all yours, B,” she grinned. “Read on the porch, recline in the tub, and just enjoy it. We are going to  _ nap _ .” She tossed a wink at the blonde before she sauntered away.

Betty eyed them curiously as they meandered down the hall, unsure of where this had come from until she could hear the echoes of Archie and Veronica whispering from their bedroom doorway, the arched ceilings causing the sound to echo down the quiet corridor.

“What’s going on, Ronnie?” Archie asked. “Not that I care where we sleep but are Betty and Jug okay?”

“Oh Archiekins, you sweet, blind man,” Veronica sighed. “Besides overworked, they are fine. They just haven’t… you know, done the deed. And  _ if _ they decide to while we are here, I just want it to be… memorable and comfortable for my dear Bettykins.”

“Done the deed?” Archie repeated, confused. “I don’t-”

With a roll of her eyes, Veronica explained to him impatiently.

“You know, kissy kissy, touchy touchy, licky licky, pokey pokey?”

Archie’s expression went from blank to horror in record time.

“Ronnie,” he yelled, earning a slap of a palm over his mouth. “Please, if you love me, promise me you will not  _ ever _ use the phrase touchy touchy, licky licky, or pokey pokey in reference to my two best friends ever again. I may need to bleach my brain.”

Down the hall, Betty rested her head against the white wooden door, torn between love for Veronica and her need to spontaneously combust from embarrassment.

Jughead, to his credit, chuckled and opened the door, ushering her into their shared space.

“Well,” he said, appraising the layout before them. “That bed and that view will definitely insight some kissy kissy, touchy touchy, licky licky from me, Betts.”

Earning himself a slap across the chest, they both began to laugh at the humor in it all. They also very much appreciated Veronica’s slightly misguided gesture.

“Don’t play koi with me, Betty,” he teased, pressing her up against the bedpost. “I know you love some kissy kissy. But also, we don’t have to free willy at all. We can just Netflix and krill all weekend if it makes you happy.”

“Jughead,” she groaned, pushing him off of her. “Please tell me you didn’t spend the entire ride here thinking of ocean and fish-related puns.”

With a cheesy grin, he deposited their bags onto the bed.

“Not the whole way, Betts,” he replied. “The other half the time I thought about getting ‘nauti’ with my gull-friend.”

“Yeah well, promise no more ocean puns and I’ll make your night fin-tastic, Jug,” she joked back, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“Shell, yeah!” was all he could get out before he was thunked in the face with a throw pillow.

The room that Veronica had given them was spacious and the definition of relaxing. A sitting area with plush, richly fabricked couches and a wall-mounted television sat off to one side and a large, king-sized four-poster bed lay against the middle of the largest wall. The front wall was floor to ceiling glass with a sliding door that led out onto the veranda, large curtains available to shut out the sun when needed. 

The veranda hosted a wooden swing that was suspended from the eves overhead and covered with throw pillows. Attached to their room was a large bathroom with a clawfoot tub along with a walk-in shower, perfect for a post-beach cleaning.

Fragrant infusers filled the room with a clean linen smell and all the small touches of sea decor, like the sea glass art and large intricate shells, made the room feel like a resort oasis.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever stayed somewhere so… airy,” he sighed. “There was a time that every fiber of my being would have rejected a place like this.”

Opening her bag, Betty began to place her clothing into the drawers in the white wooden dresser. She had prepared for all types of weather and had sweaters, jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, shorts, tees, tanks and swim attire. 

“And now?” she asked, closing the dresser drawer.

“And now, I’m old and tired,” he quipped, reaching into her bag to hold up a bikini. “But I’m a fan of any place where you wear this.”

He began to empty his bag as well, sorting his clothing into the drawer under hers. While they shared a bathroom back home and his blue toothbrush sat next to her green one, and his drug store body wash shared space with her salon shampoo, sharing a dresser seemed big to him and he liked it.

“Did you want to nap, too?” he asked when all of his things were filed away. “Or would you want to take a walk and explore a little?”

“Definitely a walk,” she said, grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “I’m just going to change. Meet you out front?”

…..

He had changed out of his jeans and boots as well and was seated on a rocker when she came outside looking fresh-faced and free.

“We’ve been here an hour and you already look more relaxed,” Jughead noted. “Maybe what they say about salt air is true.”

“There’s just something about the simplicity here that automatically makes me feel at ease,” she explained with a deep inhale of sea air and slight shrug of her shoulders, as if she couldn’t explain exactly why she was so at ease.

“Let’s go explore,” she urged, linking their fingers together and setting off down the stone sidewalks. 

The first thing he noted was the absolute quiet that surrounded them. The dunes and seagrass even muted the splash of the water. People were scarce and they hadn’t seen a car in the ten minutes they’d been out. A few people passed by on bikes, the click of their wheels and the squawk of a shorebird the most sound he heard. If they ended up with any free time this weekend, Jughead could really get some more writing done.

They walked along the bay by the dunes for a while, Betty pointing out sea-life that Jughead had no clue about. She explained how horseshoe crabs weren’t crabs at all, but prehistoric relics that were more related to spiders. She shared the fact that they were at a feeding stop for annual bird migration and millions of birds fed here on their way up north.

“That’s an osprey nest up on that post there,” Betty shared as they walked, a light breeze keeping them cool from the sun, blowing the dune grass around.

“They are a fierce shorebird. They can spot prey from one hundred meters up and swoop down to grab it. The osprey were nearly extinct here years back. DDT in insecticides that were sprayed made their eggshells so fragile that they cracked and couldn’t be sustained. Once changes were made, the species began to blossom again.”

Jughead smiled down at her and squeezed her hand.

“I can tell why you like that story,” he cooed, looking out at the nests. “No matter how dire things seem, there is always a way to recover, in some way, shape, or form.”

Betty leaned her head against his shoulder before tugging him up a sand pathway onto the bay. They spent a while looking for shells and managed to find a knobbed whelk, some moon snails, and sea glass while they waded in the surf. After, he had pulled her down into the sand in front of him, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“You know I’ve never done this before,” he chuckled. “Look for shells or sea glass or anything.”

Betty leaned back further into him and looked up at his profile. She forgot sometimes the upbringing he had; alone often, homeless at times, hungry. She took for granted all the privileges she had been given as a child.

Still, he wasn’t angry or jaded by any of it. He was certainly rough around the edges at times, and maybe a bit moody, especially when he was hungry, but short of that he was compassionate, dedicated, and fiercely protective of those he loved. He had been so patient, yet confident with her, being assertive and pressing her where he knew she needed him to. She resolved then and there to make sure he enjoyed himself.

“What do you think of it?” she finally replied. “Too suburban family vacation for you?”

He chuckled down into her hair, her ponytail ticking his face.

“I liked it,” he shrugged. “Finding the perfect shell isn’t anything important or dire, but when you do get one you feel like you’ve won the lottery. It’s kind of cool how humans work so hard to ‘make’ things beautiful and nature just does it on its own.”

“Leave it to you to make shell hunting poetic, Juggie,” she giggled, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“I mean it,” he said seriously. “I think if I ever became a dad, I’d want my kids to do these things and appreciate them. Have an appreciation for life, you know?”

“Yeah,” Betty said, the words catching in her throat. “I know what you mean, Jug.”

His phone interrupted their relaxation. Archie had texted that he and Veronica planned for them to grab dinner and talk about plans for the next day at a local pub a few blocks down that had outdoor seating, some acoustic live music, plenty of local brews, and a great view of the sunset.

Brushing the sand from his shorts, Jughead helped Betty stand and they strolled their way down the strip to meet their friends.

Veronica waved excitedly from the deck where they sat, a pink drink already in her hands and a beer in Archie’s. Climbing up the deck steps, Betty and Jughead joined the others under the shade of a neon green and yellow umbrella.

“This place has some chill Jimmy Buffet vibes, am I right guys?” Archie smiled, sipping the cold brew in his hands.

“It’s nice to sit outside and not be on a sidewalk watching cabs play hit-and-run with jaywalking pedestrians,” Betty agreed, picking the same beer Jughead had chosen off the menu as the waitress stopped to take drink orders.

They ordered burgers, crab cakes, and some chicken wings for the table. As they ate, they watched the sunset on the water, pinks and oranges painting dreams on the rippling water below. Full from the food and two beers, Betty leaned her head on Jughead’s shoulder and watched as Veronica did the same with Archie.

“This is kind of romantic,” Betty said contentedly.

“If you think this is romantic, wait until you hear about our plans for tomorrow,” Veronica gushed.

“Why am I suddenly afraid?” Jughead asked hesitantly, catching a look that said, ‘you should be,’ that Archie tossed him.

“After breakfast at this cute little coffee shop nearby, we are going to check out the local sights and lighthouse on a four-man-bicycle,” Ronnie gushed. “And you can’t say no, because I already booked it. Then we hit the bay for some swimming and relaxing, and end the night with a double date to a local winery that served the yummiest dinner and has fun lawn games and firepits!”

Jughead was about to protest both the bike ride and large quota of sunshine, but the smile on Betty’s face cut his sharp tongue. Love made you do a lot of shit you didn’t want to do.

“I draw the line at Instagram photos near beached lifeboats,” Jughead deadpanned as the girls clapped their hands in anticipation.

Upon the return back to the house, Veronica poured glasses of Prosecco and they sat on the porch, rocking and swinging, listening to the waves crash against the shore that they could no longer see, but could hear. Betty shivered and Jughead pulled her further into his side.

Two bottles of bubbling alcohol in, Veronica had deemed it imperative that they get in the hot tub. Archie had objected but Veronica silenced him with one look.

Clad in their swimwear, they sat relaxing in the bubbling water, tiki torches providing the lighting for their evening. 

“You guyssssss,” Veronica giggled out. “I love that we can be all coupley now! It’s like, we’re still all best friends, but the upgraded version.”

Jughead leaned his head back against the padded edge of the hot tub. He could care less about their friend group being “upgraded” in Veronica’s eyes, but he wouldn’t complain about his current situation.

A very tipsy and scantily bikini-clad Betty was perched on his lap, her back leaning against his chest and his hands wrapping around her waist. 

“I mean, look at you two!” Veronica continued. “A few months ago and one look at B in a bikini like that would have had you stuttering and missing those large vocabulary words you like to toss around. Now you’re all like SpongeBob, giggling and making your way into Bikini Bottom.”

Jughead wasn’t trying to cop a feel in public, but he rested his arms on her shoulders after that for good measure.

“Ronnie,” Archie groaned. “How many times do we have to go over this? If you could  _ never  _ mention my best friends and bikini bottoms, or lack thereof, that would be great. You’ve totally killed SpongeBob for me.”

“You need to get with the times, Archiekins,” Veronica insisted. “I know you want to get into my bikini bottoms, so why should Betty be denied the same satisfaction. You should be happy for your bestie that she found such a generous beau with a knack for eating to blow her mind.”

“V!” Betty yelled out. “I told you that in  _ confidence!” _

“Kill me now,” Archie lamented from the other side of the hot tub.

As flames crept across his face, Jughead knew it wasn’t the water temperature turning his face red but he’d deny it, if asked.

They chatted for a while until their conversation stilled. Betty’s larger than normal alcohol consumption had made her very friendly and somewhere in the conversation lull, she had begun to shift her body to face the other way and her lips found their way to her boyfriends.

When she didn’t come up for air, Veronica arched a brow and nodded approvingly.

“Ronnie, can we  _ please _ go back to our room now,” Archie pleaded. “I  _ do not _ need to see Jughead’s tongue in Betty’s mouth. If we stay any longer I may see things I can’t unsee.”

Patting him affectionately on the cheek, Veronica climbed from the water, Archie at her side, and they donned their towels they left their friends for some alone time.

Betty was blissfully unaware of their departure, but it’d been quite a bit of time that she’d forgotten about their presence entirely. Jughead didn’t stop her for fear that it might imply her desire was wrong or inappropriate and they had come so far in that particular arena.

She kissed him hungrily, drinking him in and she ground her hips down against his. He was afraid his fingertips would leave bruises on her pale skin with how tight he was gripping her waist, pressing her down against him.

When he was sure Veronica and Archie were definitely otherwise occupied elsewhere, he slid his hands up her sides and to her neck, deftly untying the knot at her neck that secured her bikini top.

“Jug,” Betty sighed, red-faced and breathless. “What if someone sees?”

“There’s no other house for fifty yards each way and Arch and Ronnie have been long gone for a while, Betty,” he reasoned.

Pulling her mouth back down to his own, his hands crept around to her chest, as his lips cascaded down her neck, salty from their walk in the blowing sea air. He loved her like this, uninhibited and raw. She wasn’t worried about appearances or filling a role. She just  _ was. _

Latching his lips to her chest, he felt her stomach muscles tending beneath his fingers. Gripping her hips again, he adjusted his body angle, grinding roughly against her. Betty’s teeth dug into the tanned skin at his shoulder in an attempt to silence her cries as she crashed and rode out the waves, fingernails digging into the hair at the base of his neck.

When she regained her composure, she reached for him, but he stopped her.

“Not here,” he shook his head. “There are some things I wouldn’t want in  _ my _ hot tub if I were a rich man.”

**Monday, July 3rd**

Early the next morning, Jughead found himself at a cafe boasting $9.00 flavored coffee and $7.00 regular coffee. The breakfast sandwiches were crafted with cheese he couldn’t pronounce and on bread that wasn’t a bagel, but he kept his mouth shut temporarily due to Betty’s excitement over a cookies ‘n cream latte and Archie’s wide grin that he could have both bacon  _ and _ sausage with eggs on his bolo do caco bread.

They took their breakfast to go and sat in rockers out front of the cafe, watching wary morning joggers and beachgoers go about their day.

“All those choices and you got plain coffee and eggs and bacon with a side of banana bread, Jughead,” Archie said with a shake of his head. “I mean, live a little, dude.”

“I like what I like,” Jughead stated plainly, taking a sip of the expensive drink, which he hated to admit, was a strong and delicious brew.

“Oh, come on, Arch,” Veronica chimed in. “Why would he change what he likes for breakfast? I mean, he’s loved Betty for a decade. He’s a creature of habit.”

Betty smiled over and pulled his face closer to peck him on the cheek, easing the brunt of the teasing.

“I think I’ve proven you wrong this weekend,” Jughead retorted. “I’m going on a quadricycle ride, I looked for sea glass, and I made out in a hot tub. I’d say I’m wracking up points on the try-new-things list.”

Veronica jumped from her rocker, a wide grin on her face. 

“Speaking of biking, we have ten minutes until our reserved time! Let’s go get our bike on!”

Veronica and Archie had clambered in the front while Betty and Jughead shared the back. After a few minutes of pedaling and yelling about timing, they found a steady rhythm and set off down the shore roads to explore the coast.

Archie and Veronica sang for a bit as they rode, much to Jughead’s dismay, but he was easily distracted by Betty’s legs in the short shorts she was wearing. They passed by tons of local shops, some which looked to be deliciously food-related, and he mentally flagged those for the ride back. Veronica seemed most excited about a wicker shop and another storefront that sold honey and homemade soaps.

When they finally reached the point and the lighthouse, they were happy to have a break. Veronica had declared that a lighthouse must be climbed and had dragged Archie up to the top while Jughead claimed he must be fed. 

Grabbing some tacos and guacamole from a food truck parked in the lot, Betty and Jughead took their snack on a more scenic trail. Wooden pathways led them through the marshes where signs pointed out wildlife to look for. Hidden in the trees and tall grass were pine warblers, wood thrush, bald eagles, and diamondback terrapins. Plovers and sanderlings could also be seen scouring the sand for food once the pair left the marsh area and had walked their way back around to the lighthouse and beach.

“Do you enjoy this?” she asked him. “Bird watching, I mean.”

Jughead laced his fingers through hers and downed the rest of his last taco, tossing the wrapper in the garbage can nearby.

“I like being away from the stress of work with you,” he confessed. “Maybe I’ll even set a novel here someday. But I don’t think a career or hobby in ornithology is for me. You?”

Betty shook her head, blushing as he wiped a stray bit of guac from the corner of her lips. “Not particularly. But it is nice to be outside and away from the sound of the city for a bit. I feel relaxed, Jug. Like  _ really  _ relaxed.”

He looked over his shoulders down the path on both sides and saw no one else within sight. He pressed her back into the wooden handrails and traded soft, taco-laced kisses while the dragonflies and damselflies flitted around the plant life growing up from the waters below.

His thumb stroked her cheek where he held her jaw as her tongue explored his own and the roof of his mouth, her hands wrapped tightly in the sides of his t-shirt. Their kisses were long and sweet, yet thorough and warm. Her lips were so soft against his own as their tongues grazed lazily under the best of a warm sun.

“Jug,” Betty mouthed again his chest as she pulled back and tucked her head into him. “I meant what I said about being really relaxed here. I know we just started edging into some… new territory, but I thought we could maybe… I might be ready for…”

She paused, nervous a bit in her declaration until he tipped her chin up and her eyes met his own, soft pools of blue staring down at her with a depth of understanding she didn’t know existed. Taking a deep breath, she found her voice again.

“I think I might be ready to try a bit more… like maybe internal. Not sex,” she added quickly. “I think we need to finish what Dr. S suggested before we get there, but maybe we can try hands?”

When he didn’t respond right away, she began to babble nervously.

“I know it’s not super romantic talking about this and planning everything and you’ve been so wonderful and patient, and I-”

“Not tonight,” Jughead interrupted. 

Betty looked a bit crestfallen and her shoulders sagged, but she nodded back at him bravely.

“Of course. Yeah, no you’re right. I was just-”

“Betty,” he said, stopping to explain. “We are going to some winery tonight and you and Veronica are going to drink… a lot. I just think maybe we should be trying that for the first time with clear heads that aren’t clouded with alcohol.”

If Jughead Jones was one to describe his girlfriend in anime, heart-eyes would have been the current descriptor based on how she was gazing up at him.

“How about this,” he suggested. “After the fair and fireworks tomorrow, we let Archie and Veronica go out partying with Cheryl and Toni as planned, and we head back to have the house to ourselves and take our time.”

He swore she had tears in her eyes as she kissed him again. They stayed that way until their friends found them, coughing to alert them of their presence.

“All this nature and history to explore and you two find a place to explore each other,” Veronica sassed. “It’s time to get the bike back and get some R&R on the bay. My tan needs time to even out and the angle of the midday sun will be perfect by the house.”

Climbing back on the bike, they headed back towards town, stopping for Veronica’s wicker and honey along with assorted snacks for Jughead. He had to admit, this typical family-of-five vacation at a seaside mansion was not terrible at all. He would have previously  _ never  _ let himself enjoy a trip like this. For a moment he was conflicted by that, but then when he saw Betty laughing at his side, he decided to stop feeling self-conscious and judgemental for now and just to enjoy the moment.

…..

Veronica was right when she said it was almost like their own private beach. While the space was public, most people flocked in droves over to the ocean side of the peninsula while the bay was littered with locals who set up their chairs and umbrellas mostly in front of their homes. They had a good amount of space between them and anyone else to spread out. 

The Lodges were well prepared with beach equipment and as Jughead learned, without her parents' assistant around, he and Archie also doubled as cabana boys. He carried umbrellas, sand chairs, lounge chairs, coolers, towels and other assorted beach bags onto the sand.

“One more thing boys,” Veronica called. “If you want to head out at all today you need to go get the kayak or paddleboards.”

Jughead was sweating and hot, but the childlike grin on Archie’s face told him he was making one more trip back across the sand to their home.

When everything was finally on the sand, Jughead grabbed a chair and set up four umbrella’s overhead. He didn’t think he was made for sun or sand. He appreciated the view of the water, though, and found himself deep in thought until Betty pulled up a lounger and laid out next to him in her bikini and then all possible fragments of intelligence he had flew out the window.

He was half on edge before they left the house when she had asked him to apply her sunscreen. It didn’t take much lately to get him riled up. He watched Betty drift off in the shade while Veronica worked on her tan in the sun. The next house down had set up a volleyball net and Veronica had made introductions for Archie who was now happily part of their game.

Jughead watched the rise and fall of Betty’s breath and noted it almost seemed in time with the waves hitting the shore. She really was more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. 

Betty’s confession earlier about being ready to try more didn’t come as a surprise to him, but he was nervous all the same. He wanted to help her get to where she wanted to be, but he also didn’t want to hurt her. In her lifetime she’d only ever experienced pain in connection with sex so being involved in revolutionizing that was a great deal of pressure and he was certainly feeling it.

He’d done so much reading on how some men had thought if they just surprised their wives it would work since they weren’t anticipating it and how that had made things so much worse. He hadn’t made a single move they hadn’t talked about and only a month ago had they even gone beyond generic touching.

A month ago they had a session with Dr. Saraswati as a couple. Jughead could see why Betty felt so at ease with her. She was friendly and welcoming, but also had an air about her that just made you feel like you’d known her forever.

“Jughead!” she had greeted him. “Welcome! I feel as if I know you already. Betty speaks very highly of you.”

He had raised an eyebrow at Betty and she had shrugged her shoulders back at him, her cheeks taking on a hint of pink he didn’t think was from her makeup.

“Betty has a habit of overly supporting the people she loves,” he quipped. “She blocks out our faults. Whatever she said, cut it back by fifty percent and that’s probably me.”

Chuckling, they took their respective seats and settled in for the hour-long session.

“So, Jughead,” Dr. S began. “Since Betty was already brave in laying all her cards out on the table, let’s start with you. How are you doing with all of this?”

He was surprised, taken aback, that she delved right into things and began with him. He assumed it was to take some pressure off Betty since this joint session was new, but he was unprepared for the attack.

“Things are good,” he said simply. “Everything seems to be going well.”

Dr. S nodded and looked between them. “From what I’ve gathered, you’ve been very patient with Betty and haven’t pushed her into anything-

“I would never!” Jughead began to say, quite animated in his seriousness of the issue, as Dr. S held up a hand to let him know she’d like to finish explaining.

“I was trying to say you’ve been supportive,” she clarified. “And that I think your patience and love have been a large part of Betty’s success so far.”

Reaching across the couch, he brushed his thumb across Betty’s knuckles and she took his hand, linking their fingers together.

“But I asked how you were,” Dr. S explained. “Not how things are going. I know you love Betty, but all of this must be  _ a bit  _ overwhelming for you.”

Jughead swallowed hard and sat back a bit, resting against the squishy back cushions of the oversized couch. 

“It’s okay, Jug,” Betty urged. “You can say whatever you are thinking. It won’t change anything and I’ve certainly told you all my feelings over the past few months.”

Running a hand over his face, he shrugged off the jacket he was wearing, suddenly feeling a bit overheated. After a few pauses of silence, he shared.

“I’m nervous,” he choked out honestly. “And I definitely feel a little pressure and it’s been weighing me down a bit.”

Betty tilted her head to one side, trying to figure out how she was pressuring him while Dr. Saraswati nodded in understanding.

“It is a lot of pressure to put on yourself,” she agreed. “While our focus has mainly been on Betty, we neglect to think about the effect this has on your psyche. Can you share with Betty what type of pressure you feel?”

Jughead tilted himself sideways on the couch a bit and grabbed Betty’s other hand as well. He felt odd talking about such intimate details of his life with a doctor, even though he liked her, but wanted to feel as alone and connected to Betty as he could right then.

“I’m nervous that I won’t be enough for you,” Jughead explained calmly. “And I feel pressured to make sure that I never hurt you and that you get to experience pleasure like all your friends. But what if I fail? What if I don’t know what to do? What if I’m the wrong choice and you never get that feeling? What if I make things worse?”

Betty didn’t know what to say. She had so many feelings wrapped up in her issues that she hadn’t really considered the mental toll she had placed on Jughead in it all and that was apparent from the look on her face. 

“Betty?” Dr. Saraswati called to her. “Would you like to respond? Maybe help ease some of Jughead’s worries? His feelings are very valid and honest.”

Betty let go of his hands and dropped hers into her own lap. Almost immediately she began to pick at her fingernails and cuticles, a gesture Jughead knew she often resorted to when she was nervous.

“I’m a bit upset by it all,” she confessed softly. “Not by what you said Jughead, but upset with myself that I hadn’t even considered those types of feelings on your end. I was so worried about how you’d feel about maybe never… having sex, I didn’t think about how you’d handle the journey.”

Dr. Saraswati smiled and sighed. “And this is why we do this,” she explained. “Oftentimes we are swept up in life and just don’t get the time to talk things through. Maybe you can address some of his concerns, Betty?”

Betty smiled, a tear rolling down her cheek. She brushed it away with the side of her hand before sniffing and reaching for a tissue.

“I’m sorry,” she chuckled, wiping at her eyes and looking up at the ceiling to try and stop the onslaught of emotion barreling down.

“Don’t apologize for your feelings, Betts,” Jughead said. “This is heavy stuff.”

“Jughead,” Dr. S chimed in breaking the tension. “You stole my line. Have you ever thought of a career in therapy?”

“I can barely unpack my own crap, doc,” he joked. “I don’t need to hear anyone else’s.”

Betty laughed at that since she  _ knew _ firsthand exactly how much crap she and Jughead both had to unpack from their youth in Riverdale. When the laughter died, the room was much more relaxed and so was Betty.

“Okay,” she breathed out slowly. “Juggie, you laid a lot out and I’m going to try and address everything you said. First and foremost, you are enough for me. Without any changes to our relationship at all, you were  _ always  _ enough for me.”

“Next, in regard to hurting me, it may be a bit inevitable,” she explained. “At some point, we will hit a road bump and I’m going to flinch and it’s not going to work and I know we will  _ both _ be upset. But it won’t be on purpose and I know you’ll stop when I ask you to and that’s  _ all _ I need, Jug.”

Jughead pulled her hands into his own again, kissing the backs of her knuckles.

“Last, you can’t make things worse because they’ve never been better,” Betty smiled. “You’re worried I’ll never experience what the girls do, but you forget that I’ve already felt more passion and happiness with you than I ever knew possible. You can’t mess it up, Jug. There’s nothing without you.”

Jughead felt a weight lifted from his chest, though his fears weren’t completely gone, having shared them left him feeling lighter.

“I’m still nervous,” he told Betty. “But then again so are you. I guess we will tackle this like every other mystery that’s come our way… together.”

Dr. Saraswati has been so pleased with their communication and progress she gave them homework. She wanted Jughead to be active during Betty’s dilating; first by just being present followed by taking over for her with insertion. She explained it may seem uncomfortable and embarrassing for Betty at first, but reassured her this was all healthy and the way to treat a medical condition she was suffering from. She even suggested that once they get comfortable they add some stimulation to the process.

Before they left the doctor stopped Jughead on his way out.

“I pre-ordered your book you know,” she smiled. “If your characters share the same depth as you do, I think it will be one hell of a novel.”

After the appointment, they had tried bringing him into her exercises starting that weekend. Betty had paced the room for a while stalling, claiming she needed to brush her hair, apply face cream, and paint her toenails all before bed. While he knew she had beauty care rituals, he also knew that these were not part of the norm. He had stopped her self-distractions with a hand on her waist on one of her trips back and forth across the room.

“Betty,” he said gently. “You don’t need to be nervous about this. You’re going to wear a hole in the hardwood.”

Sighing, she dropped her shoulders. “It’s just so…awkward, Jug. I feel like I’m doing something… wrong or weird. I can’t explain it.”

“You’re treating a medical condition, Betty,” he reassured her. “It’s like I’m watching or helping you give yourself an insulin injection. And even if you were doing what you're doing for pleasure, and I was watching, there would be nothing wrong with it.”

He had sat behind her for two weeks, rubbing her shoulders as a silent participant before finally, one Tuesday night, she had grabbed his hand without speaking and he had helped her with the process. It was a big step for her and he showed her just how proud of her he was after, and every night after that.

“Juggie?” Betty called, drawing him from his thoughts and back to the beach on which he sat. “V and Arch are taking a kayak out. Want to ride out on the other?”

“A quadricycle and kayaking,” he said to himself.. “Looks like a day with a lot of new experiences for me.”

….

Sore. He was fucking sore and his skin was tight from the sun. Who knew kayaking on the bay used so many muscles he had long neglected? Betty, who was in far better shape than he was, was also groaning as she lay back against him in the tub, soaking their weary bodies.

“Fuck,” Jughead stammered. “You know, Veronica said she wanted us to relax and enjoy and then tried to kill us with miles of biking and kayaking. I’m starting to think she had ulterior motives.”

“My poor baby,” Betty pouted, leaning back to peck a kiss on his chin. “Maybe later I’ll have to massage your tired muscles.”

Jughead chuckled and pulled her back closer. 

“Later you’ll be in a girly fit of wine giggles and too incapacitated to do anything of the sort,” he declared, running the loofah up her arm and across her collarbone. “But I’ll take a rain check.”

“Hey Jug?” Betty asked softly. “Are you really having a good time? I know this isn’t your thing…”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But yeah, I have to begrudgingly admit I’ve enjoyed myself. Fuck. Even that seven dollar coffee was delicious.”

“I’ll buy you some of their beans before we leave,” Betty smiled. “Then you can brew it at home when you are pulling an all-nighter writing.”

“Speaking of which-”

A pounding on the bathroom door jarred them both from their comfortable embrace.

“Hey lovebirds!” Veronica called. “You better be getting dressed! Dinner is in an hour and we are not missing our reservation!”

Betty patted his cheek sympathetically as he groaned, climbing from the tub and grabbing him a towel.

“What were you going to say about your writing?” Betty asked, using another towel to wring out her hair.

“Oh nothing.” He shrugged it off with a wave of his hand. “We can talk later. We wouldn’t want to keep the queen of ‘ _ Dune Our Thing’ _ waiting.

…..

The winery Veronica had found was gorgeous. Long rows of vineyard fields stretched out before them, the long driveway leading up to an old rustic building converted into a modern restaurant with indoor and outdoor seating. A large lawn behind the vineyard hosted large stone patios with fire pits and games of cornhole in the grass.

She had not only reserved a table for them but also a private space in the back away from the crowd with their own fire pit and lawn games.

“The food here is so good you guys,” she gushed. “Jughead, you are going to salivate over the brisket sandwich and the whiskey grilled cheese.”

Jughead could tell Veronica wanted him to like it there. She clearly loved this place and knew he was out of his element and was doing all she could to make him feel included and excited. He truly appreciated that.

Jughead opened a menu and scanned down the list, finding the previously mentioned sandwich.

“You had me at food, Veronica.”

Veronica beamed, pleased and continued ranting off what they  _ had  _ to order for the table. Before they knew it, a waiter appeared with a bottle of red for Archie and Jug, and a growler of their homemade peach Sangria for the girls. He soon returned with trays of food; a platter with five cheeses, five meats, olives, breads with dipping sauces, figs and walnuts, a Caprese salad made with their own farm-grown tomatoes, a plate of asiago bruschetta, and a basket of fries with a truffle mayo dipping sauce.

Digging in, they all tried a little bit of everything, Betty falling in love with the bruschetta and Jughead discovering that rich-sounding items such as truffle tremor goat cheese and drunken goat cheese were, in fact, delicious, especially when paired with chorizo.

When they had all but cleared the platters of appetizers, their main courses arrived. Archie and Jughead had decided to order the brisket sandwich and a mango pulled pork sandwich to split, this way they could sample two of the meats rather than one. Betty had opted for the whiskey grilled cheese with a tomato soup and Veronica ordered scallops with bacon. 

While they ate, they refilled their glasses, talking about plans for July fourth and their last day, the fifth. 

“Maybe we should barbecue tomorrow,” Jughead had suggested, Archie high fiving him enthusiastically. “Some burgers and hot dogs. I can even grill up some corn for your herbivores over there.”

“Jug,” Betty grimaced, hands on her stomach. “How can you even talk about food right now after all we ate? I’m  _ so  _ full.”

“Betty, you should know him well enough by now to be completely aware that the  _ only  _ thing Jug thinks about consistently is food,” Archie stayed, downing the one last piece of pepperoni on his plate.

Jughead glowered at Archie as he formulated his words in retaliation.

“That’s not all I think about Arch,” he quipped, waggling his brows at Betty before sliding her chair over to pull her into a kiss.

“And there goes my dinner,” Archie deadpanned, pushing back from the table. “Time for some cornhole maybe? I need to stand up or I’m going to pass out from all the food.”

They had paid their bill earlier and ordered another growler of the Sangria. Their waiter had already placed that along with four glasses and some fruit, over on a tray near their fire pit seating area.

For a while they played back and forth, tossing the beanbags and cheering when they got a clean shot into the hole. Veronica and Archie had defeated them two-out-of-three times before Ronnie announced she was officially tired of tossing beans around and was ready for some relaxation and more Sangria.

The sky had darkened by that point anyway, the warm sun still lingering in the thick air, combined with the fire pit flames, casting a soft glow on the bricks around them. Pulling up their Adirondack chairs, they fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the crackling of the fire and the sweetness of the peach mixed drink.

Archie had filled them in on his newest contract, a revolving bar at the top of a swanky building near Rockefeller Center. He had been doing well, but this project would really help put Andrews Construction II on the map with elite New York. He offered Jug a spot on the crew when he wanted it, claiming that the day-to-day pay would be even higher.

“That’s amazing, Arch,” he said with a clap on the back. “But I’m not sure I’ll have time for a ton of shifts come the fall.”

Betty’s eyebrows slanted downwards and her forehead creased as she looked over at him.

“What’s going on, Jug?” she asked, concerned as he was always willing to help Archie out.

Jughead offered a half-smile, shy. He was trying to find time all week to tell her about his recent news, but they kept getting interrupted. Archie’s offer was as good a segue as any.

“Nothing, actually. My publisher called the other day. You know Edward Munro, mystery writer elite, is also on their docket. Well, they had him read over my book and he apparently loved it so much he wrote the foreword. With his praise, my pre-sales already have me looking at a second publishing. They sent the contract over last week.”

Veronica’s jaw dropped open in excitement and she clapped her hands, bouncing a bit in her chair, her reaction no doubt enhanced by the copious amounts of Sangria she’d consumed. Archie had shot a triumphant arm up in the air and reached out for a fist bump.

After returning the gesture, Jughead looked over to Betty, who had remained quiet. Over the fire pit, he could see her eyes sparkling. He thought there may have been tears, but with the flames dancing and flickering across her face, he couldn’t be sure. Listening to the ‘pops’ of the logs for a moment more, he addressed her.

“Betts?” 

Betty sat for a moment, a serene smile on her face, before she shook her head, a full-blown grin appearing. Standing, she crossed the space between them, straddled his lap, and glued her lips to his own. He was thrown for a moment, shocked at her physical reaction to his news, but quickly settled into the kiss, melting into her.

Betty’s arms wove their way around his neck as she pressed herself closer, kissing him for all he was worth. Jughead was personally glad that the darkness and the seclusion of their own private area blocked the rest of the vineyard guests from their view.

Archie cleared his throat, reminding them of their presence, but Betty ignored him.

“Beer at the bar?” Archie asked Veronica. “I could use something that’s not fruity and that’s not...that,” he added pointing at their friends.

Betty didn’t utter a goodbye to their friends and neither did Jughead as their tongues were otherwise occupied, taking up residence in each other’s mouths. Her hands ran down his chest and back up, cupping his jaw softly before weaving their way through his hair. 

After minutes of long and ravenous kisses, Betty extricated her mouth from his own before rubbing her nose up against his gently.

“I’m so, so proud of you, Jug,” she said breathlessly. “You have worked so hard and you deserve this. I hope you know that.”

“We deserve this, Betty,” he corrected her. “The book may have my name on the cover, but you helped me with ideas, inspiration, motives, and edits. It would be blank pages without you.”

Betty drew his lips back to her own. Her kisses were embarrassingly passionate for a public venue, but at that moment she couldn’t be bothered to care what anyone else had to say. She kissed him languidly, savoring the moment.

“Still?” They could hear Archie bemoaning from behind their chair.

They smiled against each other’s lips and carried on.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Sorry to leave you hanging before part 2! I wanted to do some flashbacks to therapy to show how the condition can affect both parties and how communication is key! The treatment here is rarely talked about and many are ashamed, so I wanted to share a little more information regarding it.


	7. The Fourth of July

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... and so the beach vacation continues! Thank you for your continued messages on this fic! It warms my heart!
> 
> Just to restate here, this fic shows someone who put in work before a relationship and the ideal relationship. For all you sufferers out there, these do exist! I personally know people who have THE MOST supportive spouses! Don’t give up and don’t be afraid to seek treatment and talk about things! It’s made a world of difference for me!
> 
> Many thanks to @jandjsalmon for her fab edits and constant support with my jumbled brain!
> 
> Chat with me on tumblr @likemereckless

**Tuesday, July 4**

**‘** **_Dune Our Thing_ ** **’**

**Beach House**

They all got a late start that morning. The copious amounts of wine and Sangria they had stayed up drinking far into the night ensured a late sleep. In their drunken stupor, they had purchased cases before they left the winery to take home with them. They had even opened a bottle on the porch, but Veronica had fallen asleep sprawled across Betty’s lap on the swing before they’d had a chance to pour any. 

Hoisting their girlfriends, Archie and Jughead had stumbled through the darkened house, only to pass out as soon as their heads hit the pillow as well. 

The sunlight streamed brightly through the sliding veranda windows, cloaking the bed in warmth. Jughead’s eyes opened, blinking a few times and wincing at the blazing sun before refocusing on two sparkling green orbs hovering next to him.

“How are you so awake?” he groaned, his sight better adjusting to the light.

“It’s after eight already, Jug. I don’t want to waste a beautiful beach day!”

Rolling over, he pinned her down to the mattress, pushing her cascading hair back behind her ear. “Why would I go get all sticky and sweaty out there when we could get sticky and sweaty in here?” 

Giggling, Betty bit her lip before pulling him down to kiss him. They kissed for the longest while, sloppy and unhurried as they lay snugly under the comforter, both too groggy and sleepy from the night before to take it seriously. In between kisses he’d fill her in on the ridiculous declarations she and Veronica had made the previous night, laughing into her collarbone.

“For starters, Veronica claimed that your legs were so smooth and long that you could slide a whiskey glass down them, which you both then proceeded to try. You smashed three glasses and she licked the Jameson off of you.”

“Was that the worst?”

Nipping at her shoulder, Jug just shook his head. “Not even close.”

“Hey, lovebirds!” Veronica’s voice boomed through the door. “Daylight is burning and Choni has arrived! Swimsuits on and coffee to go! Fifteen minutes!”

….

It took thirty minutes for Jughead and Archie to lug everything onto the beach. Cheryl required more man-made shade than a snowman would.

“Set up my tent over here, boys,” Cheryl called as she held an umbrella up over her head on the sand.

The tent she spoke of was a twelve by twelve canopy that most people would use to set up party tables under. Cheryl required a six-foot radius between herself and the sun on all sides.

“Why not just stay inside and bury yourself under the covers?” Archie muttered to Jughead as they began to set up the apparatus.

“I heard that, you John Mayer wannabe,” she snapped back. “My skin doesn’t remain  _ this _ alabaster from baking in the sun. I take my few minutes and then retreat to my outdoor shade oasis. You should try it sometime. My Nana Rose always called freckles fly shit and you, Archie Andrews, reek.”

“Maybe try not to insult the guy setting up your outdoor oasis,” Jughead shot back. “It could just as easily collapse later from a gust of wind if we put it together in angry haste.”

“Ugh,” Cheryl icked with a scowl as if something smelled. “Cousin Betty, your hobo is getting all uptight again. Maybe you should head back to the house to mount him and reduce his tension.”

Betty looked crestfallen for a moment before catching herself and faking a laugh. Cheryl, at least, had the courtesy to look embarrassed after realizing her error.

“Not to worry, Cheryl,” Jughead grinned, opening her tent. “My tension is  _ quite _ well managed. Hope you enjoyed that early morning hot tub soak you had. Betty and I  _ sure  _ enjoyed it the other night as well.”

“Jones!” Toni yakked. “TMI, dude. TMI!”

Leaving a blushing Betty, an impressed Veronica, and a gagging Cheryl, Jughead set up the twelve by twelve monstrosity, swearing he’d find a way to annoy Cheryl by occupying her space, and shade, all afternoon.

The day gave way to a light breeze, making the muggy air bearable, and a low-tide. Toni and Archie had taken off paddleboarding while Veronica napped in the sun and Cheryl in the shade. Betty and Jughead sat in the shallow surf, looking for more ocean treasures as the wind whistled through the sea grass-covered dunes, watching Archie and Toni flounder out a bit further.

“It’s kind of comforting knowing there is something Archie is bad at,” Jughead chuckled as Toni lay down on her own board to give Archie a tug back onto his own. “It’s like watching an Olympian try to macrame.”

Betty nudged his knee with her own, smiling at his comparison as the seagulls swooped overhead, hoping for an easy snack. 

“A Roman gladiator attempting ballet?”

Digging down into the sand, he emerged with a small, spherical shell, passing it over to Betty to add to their collective pile.

“You know you’re just as talented as Archie, Jug,” Betty said after a while. “Maybe football or guitar aren’t your forte, but you have a lot to be proud of.”

He squeezed her hand lightly and wiggled his toes through the sand and over her pink-tipped, tinier ones, watching Archie fall off his board again. The bouncing roll of the waves was throwing his equilibrium off. Two times he gazed out at the water’s edge with Betty and both times he spilled his secrets like a squashed tube of toothpaste.

“I’m grown up enough now, though my comic book collection may say otherwise, to know that. It wasn’t easy back when we were younger… when Archie had the perfect house and family, the all-American look and friendly personality, and my life was falling apart. And for a while, he had you, and I think that was worse.”

Betty lay her head against Jughead’s shoulders, her toes still playfully wiggling against his under the wet sand. He lifted a sticky arm to tuck her further into his side, heat be damned.

“He did have me for a while, Jug,” Betty spoke. “But not really. Arch was a character in a fairytale for me. Top athlete boy next door falls for the blonde, peppy cheerleader, has 2.5 kids, and lives happily ever after. But he never  _ knew  _ me. Not the way you do. That’s why I fell for you. In a way I guess he never had me if you think about it. Archie never knew how depressed I’d get sometimes, or how when my anxiety got to be too much that I’d dig my nails into my hands. He never saw the carnage leftover after a brawl with Alice Cooper. Somewhere along the line, I realized I was more of a fractured fairytale kind of girl, Jug.”

He kissed her then, light and soft, a public appropriate kiss if there ever was. 

“Does that make me your Rumplestiltskin?”

Betty grimaced at his comparison. “Wouldn’t that make you a conniving, greedy monster wanting to capture my firstborn?”

“No,” he shrugged. “I always read it differently. He was her last hope. He may have been a bit damaged and reclusive, and okay, maybe his demands were a bit… extreme, but he gave her what she needed when she had nothing left.”

“And there is where you are wrong, my wonderful, self-deprecating, handsome Jughead Jones,” Betty sighed. “You aren’t my last hope and I’m not in a spot where I have nothing left. I have never been more hopeful and I have  _ everything _ , finally.”

A shell brushed at their joined toes again and he reached forward triumphantly to grab it from the greedy waves, already retreating with it in their grasp.

“Ah, broken,” he frowned.

“Wait!” Grabbing the shell, Betty washed the sand off in the next gush of seawater. In her hand she held one-half of a former bivalve dwelling; a pink-tinted scallop shell. The fins where the two halves joined had broken off and the top of the shell had a little crack, a small crevice swooping its way downward.

“Look, Jug,” she smiled. “It’s a heart. Even the ocean can see how much I love you.”

Betty turned and placed the shell on the smooth sand behind them, away from the rest of their pile. With her pointer finger, she danced through the damp ground, drawing a ‘B’ on one side of the shell and a ‘J’ on the other.

“Fractured, but still beautiful,” she declared, leaning over to kiss him again, in what Jughead could only describe at the least fractured fairytale and most actual fairytale moment of his life.

Some time into their liplock, a clicking sound drew them from their embrace. A few feet away, Veronica stood, snapping photo after photo with her iPhone camera.

“Sorry guys,” she shrugged. “That was way too cute and  _ definitely  _ could serve as an engagement photo. Ya know,  _ someday _ .”

….

When their shadows were directly below them signaling high noon and the heat was beating down, they headed back over to the beach house for some lunch and time by the pool. Veronica had insisted they could leave their beach gear set up just in case they decided to take a final dip later. The boys were grateful for that.

They kept lunch simple with some sandwiches from a local deli that Archie ran to on his way back to the house. With the large dinner planned for their barbecue, Veronica had figured a sandwich platter was the easiest lunch they could muster up. Toni mixed some passion fruit margaritas for the girls to cool off while they ate while Archie and Jughead had opted for some seasonal Blue Moon.

After the lunch platter was decimated, mostly by the boys, Archie and Jughead retreated into the shade for a game of cornhole while the girls slipped onto an enormous four-person raft to float around the pool, With their margaritas in tiny built-in cup holders in the raft, they all lay on their stomachs, facing the center, enjoy the partial shade some nearby trees offered while catching up on girl talk.

Stirring her drink with the green striped paper straw, Veronica took a deep breath before dropping a bombshell on them.

“So Archie told me he wants us to have a baby,” she divulged quickly, the words bubbling up and out like spit-up. “We were just eating dinner last month and he put down his chicken leg and blurted it out.”

“V, this is huge!” Betty said, concerned by Veronica’s tone. Reaching her hand out across the raft, she gave Veronica’s forearm a squeeze. “What did you say? I mean, is that what you want?”

“Keep in mind if you say yes that you’ll have milk vomit and baby goo all over those new Manolo Blahnik’s faster than you can say, ‘sale at Saks,’” Cheryl added, tossing her two-cents in as Toni shot her a dirty look from across the way.

Veronica glanced over to where Archie and Jughead were tossing beanbags, more involved in their drinks and the shade than actually keeping score. A few crepe myrtles had begun to bloom and their magenta bundles of flowers added pops of color to the green landscape.

“I don’t know what I want,” she finally confessed. “When he first blurted it out I was so dumbfounded that I couldn’t even speak. I just got up from the table and asked if he wanted red or white wine with the pie.”

“Totally appropriate reaction to being blindsided by a baby request,” Toni offered. 

“Anyway, he dropped it for the rest of dinner, but then brought it up again in bed that same night. He said he didn’t want to scare me, but he was ready for life to be about more than us.”

A cloud blew by overhead, blocking out the sun momentarily and casting shadows over the pool, before quickly passing and illuminating the water again. 

“The thing is,” Veronica muttered, “I get what he is saying, but I also like how our life is about him and me… and we are barely twenty-six. I asked if we could table the topic for a few months and Arch hasn’t brought it up again, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I  _ do  _ want it, but am I ready? Will I regret it? Will I be terrible at being a mom?”

“Veronica,” Toni said kindly. “If you’re second-guessing it at all then that should tell you your answer. Truly I think you’d be an amazing mother. I mean, look around this raft at us and think of our families. You have all the awareness of exactly how  _ not _ to be a mother.”

“I concur with my TT,” Cheryl asserted. “You’ll know when you want to flick the on switch for your baby box, but when you are ready you’ll be fab. Let’s just pray you pop out some adorable ginger humans with  _ your _ brains and Archie’s brawn.”

“You would be a great mom, V,” Betty added, her eyes shining happily. “And Archie loves you and will wait as long as you need.”

Veronica grinned out at her girls before offering her margarita glass up for a toast.

“To my continued drinking… for now.”

“To alcohol!” they giggled back clinking glasses.

“And now, how about a less heavy, more palatable topic of chatter,” Cheryl suggested. “Cousin Betty, how is your progress towards squeezing Jughead’s watermelon into your keyhole?”

Pink iced slush shot out from between Betty’s lips and all over the raft as the rest of the girls chortled, Betty glancing wide-eyed over at Archie and Jughead to make sure they hadn’t heard a thing.

“Too much?” Cheryl asked looking around the circle. “Should I have gone with bam-bam in the ham? Or maybe getting his al dente noodle into your spaghetti house?”

“Cleaning the cobwebs with the womb broom,” Veronica suggested.

“I was always partial to locking legs and swapping gravy,” Toni grinned.

Betty was fifty shades of maroon by that point and the sun was not to blame.

“Oh my God, you guys,” she coughed out flustered. “Could we maybe avoid referring to my parts and his parts as food groups?”

“Jughead likes to eat,” Cheryl shrugged. 

“But really, Betty,” Toni urged. “Are you doing okay? Is everything going alright? We ask because we love you… and we’re all a bit curious about how our sullen Jones is in the sack.”

“We’re… it’s…” Betty started before trailing off. “I can’t imagine doing this with anyone but, Jug. He’s been the biggest support I’ve ever had. And he hasn’t shied away from anything or said it was too much. He takes it all seriously and not because he has an endgame in sight but because he wants to make me happy.”

A collective group of sighs and “Awwws” flowed through the water along with a few loving gazes sent Jughead’s way from Betty’s friends. Being able to talk more openly about things really took a large burden off her shoulders she hadn’t realized she’d carried around for so long.

“He came to my therapist's appointment and she suggested he help me with my exercises at night. I was completely  _ mortified _ , but Jughead took notes,” Betty laughed. “The first time we tried my legs were shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm and he just sat behind me and massaged my shoulders and kissed my neck and told me how much he loved me.”

“I can’t believe Jughead Jones is a closet romantic,” Veronica said with a shake of her head. “Continue, B. I must know more.”

Betty laughed a bit at her own memory of what she shared next.

“The first time he helped me to actually dilate I complained because the water-based lubricant runs out  _ so  _ fast and I can’t use a silicone one with my set,” she chuckled again as she reflected. “The next night he had a five-pound tub of coconut oil on my dresser because he read that worked better and Amazon could only ship that size overnight.”

“Gotta hand it to my boy,” Toni nodded impressed. “He’s racking up some serious friend points right now.”

“I’m proud of your progress because I want you to be able to fully experience mind-numbing sex, but for now I want the dirty details dear cousin,” Cheryl insisted. “Is our eloquent and articulate author actually a cunning linguist?”

“Cheryl!” Betty blustered. “Nobody wants to hear about that!”

“So you did finally go for it!” Cheryl clapped. “And I totes want to hear about it.”

“Likewise,” said Toni, apologetically.

Betty squared her shoulders and pushed back her embarrassment, knowing her friends were no strangers to sex.

“Let’s just say that I don’t think I remembered my name or how to breathe afterwards,” Betty explained. “And, if you Nosy Nellie’s  _ must _ be involved in my love life you should know we are not coming bar-hopping tonight because we are planning on trying to take things further and,  _ no _ , I’m not sharing more than that.”

“My baby is all grown up,” Veronica cooed happily. “When you finally pop that cherry we are having a celebratory girls night so epic that novels will be written about it.”

“The only pen I want involved in my cherry story belongs to  _ my _ author over there,” Betty teased, sliding off the raft and into the water. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve been grilled enough by you all today and I’m getting barbecued by the sun. Time for me to cool down.”

…..

Cheryl and Veronica had headed back over to the beach, while the rest of them stayed behind to prep for the barbecue. In the kitchen, Betty made pasta salad, potato salad, and macaroni salad, while foil wrapping corn-on-the-cob and marinating some ribs in a homemade rub and sauce.

Jughead claimed he had stayed behind to help, but his title was mostly official taste tester as Betty had to keep slapping his hands away from her trays. When all the food was wrapped to cook and in the fridge, she had started chopping up various types of melon for a fruit salad while Jughead concocted what he called an icebox cake from graham crackers, chocolate pudding, and whipped cream.

Archie and Toni had set up the picnic tables out back with festive tablecloths and silverware and had strung banners and flags all along the veranda. Grabbing some coolers for storage, they ran to the store to grab some bags of ice and stashed water, soda, iced tea, beer, Sangria, and some hard lemonade inside. Sparklers littered the tables as well to light up during the fireworks celebration.

Between the sun and the setup, they were all about exhausted when they finished. Yawning Betty, excused herself from the yard.

“I think I’m going to shower and then nap before we eat and head out,” she explained. 

“Good plan,” Jughead agreed. “I’ll come with.”

“Way to be subtle, Jug,” Archie said with a shake of his head.

Jughead just grinned and offered him a shrug.

“What can I say, Arch. I’m all about water conservation and caring for our planet.”

Their shower had turned into a soak in the jacuzzi tub, which Jughead insisted they keep PG so she wasn’t too sore for later that night. They had opened one large window to let the sea breeze in and the gentle air mixed with the sea salt diffuser gave the air a relaxing, fresh feel. 

Betty had sponged him off first and now he washed her with her purple loofah, gathering suds from the fragrant water.

“I’m not a man who appreciates fancy things or expensive scents, but this body wash and lotion is so unique to you that I have to say I’m a big fan.”

Betty sank back against him, luxuriating in the warm water and his touch. “Cheryl gave it to me years ago and I’m still obsessed. It’s made in a converted farmhouse on the West Coast of Ireland. It’s always smelled magical to me.”

“Have you ever thought about traveling there?” Jughead asked as he brushed the sponge over her arms.

“Mmm. Constantly,” Betty shared. “It’s my dream trip. but it’s not exactly the kind of trip the girls would want to take. They are more of a Caribbean island type of crew.”

“What if we planned to go?”

Betty tipped her head back and up to look at him and he let the sponge fall into the sudsy, warm water below, sinking towards the bottom like a shipwreck. 

“You would be into that?” Betty asked with a mixture of surprise and delight.

Jughead shrugged and offered her a half-smirk with a tip of his head.

“Ancient history, cool castles, open countryside… I mean it sounds like an adventure to me.”

“I’d love that,” Betty smiled before settling back against him again. 

They lay content and quiet until the water got cold.

……

They gathered in the backyard around six o’clock. Veronica had pulled out some tiki torches to keep the bugs at bay and anchored them into the ground around the picnics table. Burgers, hot dogs, ribs and all the side dishes were grilled and set out on platters.

Betty had insisted they turn on the garden fairy lights and overhead dangling bulbs even though it was not yet dark, claiming it would somehow add some magic to the already happy holiday. They had dug into the food with gusto, devouring the meal until their bellies were full of the smoky delights and hearts full of laughter.

The fireworks would begin at nine-thirty up at the water’s edge where a small fair had been set up as well. They planned to leave around eight to explore the fair and had about an hour to kill in between. They sat in the grass, laid back in Adirondack chairs spread out in a circle, drinks in hand. Toni’s head lay against Cheryl’s shoulder while Betty’s feet lay in Jughead’s lap, his fingers drawing tiny circles on her ankles.

“Okay, me first,” Toni called out. “Never have I ever stolen something.”

Looking around the circle, every one of them raised their glasses to their lips, spraying beer and hard lemonade as they laughed.

“Only in Riverdale would every teen have to be a thief,” Jughead lamented, amazed Toni had somehow remained clean.

Cheryl raised her hand and yelled out with an ‘ooo’, ‘ooo’.

“Never have I ever experimented with my sexual orientation,” Cheryl grinned, taking a drink herself.

“You’re not supposed to ask questions that you can drink to, Cher,” Toni chortled. “It’s called never have  _ I ever.” _

“I like to pregame, TT. What can I say? But really? No one but TT and I?”

Shyly, Betty raised her glass to her lips and downed a sip from her hard lemonade.

“COUSIN BETTY?” Cheryl exclaimed with delight. “Details please on your foray into the fairer sex please, no details spared!”

Through her lashes, Betty gazed up at Jughead, whose mouth was slightly opened and his gaze intense. 

“It wasn’t anything extreme,” Betty shared. “After a sorority power hour, my sister and I decided to kiss to see what it would be Iike. After a pretty decent make out session I conceded that while it felt nice, it wasn’t my cup of tea.”

Veronica smacked herself on the forehead and took a sip as well.

“B!” sShe exclaimed. “We kissed at River Vixens tryouts!”

“I forgot all about that!” Cheryl grinned. “You thought you were hot shit back then, Ronnie, and look at us now, the very best besties.”

“Okay,” Archie interrupted, smearing his throat. “As hot as this is, we should move on. Never have I ever said, ‘I love you’ to get laid.”

Eyes shifted around their group, but no one lifted a glass. After a few minutes, Toni made a duck face and nodded.

“Damn,” she said. “We may be thieves, but at least we are honest ones. You’re up, V.”

“Never have I ever smoked pot,” Veronica shared.

Around the grouping of chairs, everyone but Archie raised their glass.

“All of you but me and my sweet Archiekins?” Veronica exclaimed.

“You’re missing out, girl.” Cheryl snarked.

“Never have I ever dined and dashed,” Jughead interjected.

Cheryl and Toni drank, then launched into a story about how a waiter had gotten handsy and how they’d broken a few fingers before deserting their meal.

“Never have I ever fallen in love at first sight,” Betty suggested.

Offering her a wink, Jughead took a sip of his drink and squeezed her ankle.

“It was our dear Bettykins, wasn’t it?” Veronica smiled. 

“No, V,” Betty said with a shake of her head. “Jug told me he was about fifteen when he fell in love with me.”

“Not exactly true, Betts,” Jughead said, nervously. “I said I was fifteen when I admitted to myself that I was in love with you and actually let myself fantasize that you could love me back. The truth is, I think I always loved you.”

“Juggie,” Betty sighed, pulling her feet from his lap and leaning across her chair to kiss him. She drank him in softly and blindly sweet, but most ardently as he held her chin with tender reverence.

“What can I say?” he chuckled shyly, a slight crinkle to his eye and blush to his cheek. “I may write murder mysteries, but deep down I’m just a closet romantic.”

“Well let’s get the show on the road, Casanova,” Archie chimed in, still uncomfortable with his two best friends' display of affection. “Time to head up to the fair.”

…..

Concealed in reusable water bottles and flasks, they had taken their drinks up to the waterline with them. Jughead had shaken his head when Veronica offered him a container to conceal the beer he had barely touched, but he declined as did Betty, both wanting to have clear heads tonight.

The whole affair up at the ocean walkway seemed surreal to Jughead and Toni, who had never seen an event like this. Kids raced around with sparklers as ragtime bands played patriotic tunes in front of old Victorian homes, barbershop quartets stationed in between singing tunes that took them back to times before their birth.

Vendors in red, white and blue pinstriped outfits and straw hats walked around selling peanuts, cotton candy and hotdogs, while musical carts trotted you and down the streets selling ice cream to already sticky, happy children.

“We’re in fucking Pleasantville,” Toni deadpanned. “These people are so smiley they must be lacing that cotton candy with Valium.”

Veronica just waved her off. “Not to worry, it’s all part of the show. After they display their  _ perfect _ family holiday for all to see they will retreat into their mini-mansions and drown their sorrows in brandy, prescription drugs, screaming matches, or worse. Each will pick their own poison, I can assure you. Ferris wheel, Archiekins?”

Linking arms, they promised to meet in front of Veronica’s house, but on the beach at nine-fifteen for the illuminations display. Toni and Cheryl headed off to drink and get henna tattoos while Jughead tugged Betty towards the other side of the street.

“Where are we going?” she asked giggling at his enthusiasm.

“I’m letting fifteen year old me out to play,” he teased, stopping to buy some pink cloud-like cotton candy before tugging her into a photo booth.

Pulling out a few single dollars, he fed the machine and waited for the queues to appear. The first snapshot was just a generic smiling photo, their faces pressed tightly together. In the second shot they each held up small American flags, to commemorate the date the photos were taken. Third, he fed her a giant glob of the pink, spun sugar, Betty barely able to swallow through her laughter before the last flash case when he sealed his lips on hers.

They waited outside the booth before grabbing their photo strip, Jughead tucking it safely in the back pocket of Betty’s white jean shorts.

They had a bit more time to kill and Jughead dragged her onto the sand. The pink sky cast a glowing hue over the beach as the sky slowly darkened. The beach was still fairly vacant, especially as they strolled down towards Veronica’s property, but the bands and quartets could still be heard from their location.

Betty’s arm jerked back as Jughead stopped in his tracks, tilting his head to the side as the barbershop quartet up on the walkway began a new song.

“Dance with me?” 

“You really are a closet romantic,” Betty cooed, taking his hand as he pulled her in close to his chest, hurrying his lips near her ear, one hand in hers and the other pressed against her lower back.

_ “I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places _

_ That this heart of mine embraces all day through _

_ In that small cafe, the park across the way _

_ The children's carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well.” _

“You know, Jug,” she bantered as they swayed. “If you’re trying to ensure you get lucky tonight you’re doing a really great job.”

Chuckling into her hair, he sucked in a deep breath.

“God, Betty, I’m scared shitless about tonight,” he admitted. “I’m afraid to hurt you or disappoint you. But I want to help you still feel relaxed now and enjoy this moment if nothing else.”

_ “I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day _

_ In everything that's light and gay _

_ I'll always think of you that way _

_ I'll find you in the morning' sun.” _

“What about you?” she countered. “Don’t you get to enjoy this, too?”

He pulled back a bit to place his palm in her cheek, thumb stroking her bone structure lightly.

“I’m on a private beach being serenaded by a barbershop quartet, eating pure sugar with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

_ “And when the night is new _

_ I'll be looking at the moon _

_ But I'll be seeing you.” _

As promised they all met back near the house on time. Betty lay back against Jughead's chest as his arms wrapped around her, feeding her bits of cotton candy as they waited. Right before the show began, Cheryl handed out the sparklers she had brought and lit them, just as the first glowing boom illuminated them overhead.

From above, the band played the Battle Hymn of the Republic, Proud to be an American, and countless other tunes as various aerial fireworks erupted above them.

Brocade fireworks burst in golds and reds like ancient stars blowing out through space. Peony fireworks burst like spring flowers opening at the first rains, changing colors as they stretched their petals through the sky. Strobes flickered and flashes like bioluminescent deep-sea creatures and Chrysanthemum fireworks burst like bright magic in the dark sky.

Betty couldn’t remember a fireworks display feeling more alive since she was a child. 

When the grand finale full of Palms and Crackles fizzled out, applause and cheers came from the beach and walkways above. People began to clear out quickly and they all rose from the sand as well. The girls all tossed Betty winks and knowing glances and she flushed, bashful at their obvious gazes.

“You guys aren’t coming to the bars with us?” Archie asked innocently.

“Oh, Archiekins,” Veronica sighed. “I’ll explain when you’re older.”

Lacing their fingers together, Jughead tugged her off the beach and back towards the house, their friends getting smaller in the distance as they headed off the other way towards the local bars.

As they walked past the doll-house like Victorian homes with their bright colors and wavy trims, horse and carriage carts passed by, grinding tourists around the historic city under lamplight, transporting them back to simpler times.

“I didn’t know they did that,” Jughead said gesturing towards the horse and carriages passing by. “Did I drop the ball? Should I have organized a moonlit carriage ride?”

“Jug, I think I’d be more interested in the trolley ghost tour they offer than the carriage ride. Plus, everything is already perfect.”

They climbed the five steps up onto the porch and Jughead tugged her down onto the porch swing, a spot they had been getting a lot of use from since they had arrived. 

“We should talk about how to go about this tonight,” he suggested.

Betty frowned and pouted a little, leaning into his side as his long legs rocked the swing slowly, hers tucked up beneath her.

“I wish we could just be spontaneous,” she grimaced. “I hate that everything we do has to be orchestrated and planned.”

“It won’t always be like this,” he reassured her, tugging on her ponytail to draw her face back to his for a kiss. “But I think we should be as prepared as we can the first time we try this.”

“You’re right, Jug,” she conceded. “I’m just  _ so tired _ of talking about it, but you’re right. We should probably try and dilate first with the first two sizes before we try anything else and you should probably try and control that from the start so I can adjust to that idea first. Even though your hand will be smaller, it’s a different feeling and will probably burn, so you may need to start and stop a few times. Maybe we can make it  _ somewhat  _ normal and just kiss and stuff after we prep? We will just take it as we go.”

“I won’t hurt you,” he promised, but Betty shook her head.

“You can’t promise that or control it, Jug. It’s not your fault, or mine if this doesn’t go well on the first try, but I think we will be okay.”

“You want to swing for a bit longer, take a dip in the tub to relax…?”

“No,” Betty breathed, taking his hand and pulling him up off of the swing.

They entered their room and Betty flicked on all the lamplights they had. One thing being so open regarding her needs and progress had allowed them was no room for shyness when it came to nudity. There was no hiding under the covers or dark rooms for them.

Heading into her bag, she grabbed her kit and placed it on the nightstand before turning back from the bed, only to find Jughead pressed right behind her. With a firm grasp of his hand, he slid his palm across her jaw and his lips over hers, melding their bodies together and lifting her slightly to sit her back on the bed. Without breaking the kiss, he moved over her dipping her back onto the pillows before resting his body over hers.

His goal was to make things as normal as possible, for both of them, so getting things started as naturally as possible seemed completely natural. His kisses were hungry and decidedly unvirginal in their ferocity and exploration, swiftly trailing down her neck before jerking her upwards to remove the red tank top she wore.

Being momentarily upright she took the initiative to divest him of his t-shirt as well, one which was lacking any semblance of patriotic red, white, or blue. The moment his discarded tee hit the floor he was back on her and she on him. She reached down to grab at any skin she could while he traced the edge of her bra, following the curve with his tongue, before sliding the straps down her arms and pulling the fabric down just enough to get his mouth where he wanted it.

Betty arched up into him, her hand now gripping his hair tightly and holding it against her sensitive skin. Jughead’s free hand slid downward, unbuttoning the brass fastening on her denim shorts before helping her shimmy them down her hips before unbuckling and wiggling his way out of his as well.

Both of their breathing was ragged and unhinged, their lips were swollen and bruised from the kisses. Rolling to his side, he pulled Betty with him, slowing things down a bit. This was a big moment for them; another big moment in what would be a whole series of big moments and while he wanted her worked up, he also needed to make sure he had self-control.

He switched his kisses to long, rich ones, their hands soothing over each other's skin until he was sure she couldn’t possibly take anymore.

“Are you ready?” he asked her seriously, receiving just a short, shy nod in return.

They assumed their new favorite position for exploration, Jughead no longer nestled behind her at the headboard. Betty had confessed that watching his face and his eyes put her at ease during their intimate exploration together. Now, he perched at her side, down towards her stomach at an angle that allowed him to participate better.

Grabbing her kit, Betty pulled out the smallest dilator first, coating it in the coconut oil that Jughead had ordered for her which she had dished into a smaller jar for travel.

“You ready, spaghetti?” he asked her, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Of course your terms of endearment are all food-related.”

“I know what I like,” Jughead shrugged, searching her eyes for a sign she was ready. 

Betty took a deep breath and nodded, willing herself to relax as he eased the smallest in her set inside. She felt the familiar slight burning sensation as it first stretched her, but she had been comfortable with thismall-sizeded one for some time now. When she first began she’d leave it stationary for about ten to fifteen minutes, adding clockwise motions after insertion became comfortable weeks later. Now, he followed those same clockwise motions, helping to ready her for the next size and then himself. Gently, he moved the device back and forth, adding motion to the stretch.

“We can move up a sized Jug,” Betty breathed out. “I think I’m good. These two are easy for me now.”

They followed the same routine with the next, Jughead rubbing at her stomach and pausing to interject quick kisses in between, before Betty dragged his arm back and looked up at him, shakily.

“Yeah?” he asked one final time as he removed the dilator.

“Yeah,” she whispered, closing her eyes and willing her body to relax.

Similar to the dilators, Jughead sat up to lather some coconut oil onto his fingers, wanting to make sure there was limited friction and ease of entry for her. Leaning over her again, he kissed her softly, stopping at her cheeks and her nose.

“I love you, ya know?” he reminded her.

“How could I forget?” Betty smiled back. “I love you too, Juggie.”

Jughead mustered up all his confidence, willing his arm not to shake. While Betty was bracing for physical pain he was an emotional wreck. Scooting back down to her side, he dropped his hand down and just slowly stroked her for a moment, making no move to push inside.

“I’m going to try now, Betty,” he said after a few moments. “Make sure you talk to me.”

Finding her ready, he slowly eased the tip of his finger just barely inside. Betty hissed and grabbed at his wrist, stopping him for a moment.

“We can-” he had begun to say, but Betty shook her head again and reopened her eyes.

“No,” she urged him. “The first part is always the worst, where it burns, and fingers are more abrasive than silicone. We should be okay now.”

Letting her adjust again for a moment, he slowly and gently slid the rest of the way in, stopping all motion once inside.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly, leaning down to place a kiss by her belly button.

Betty just smiled back at him, chastely. “I’m more than alright. It doesn’t feel… great? But it also doesn’t hurt. It’s… an odd sensation. That’s- Jug, this is big for me. I’ve never-”

“Let’s see if we can work on the feel good part,” he grinned.

He moved his hand slowly and lightly, never pushing too hard or far, and never completely removing it as to avoid reinsertion. He curled his finger upward a bit, and then with a devious smile, slid his body down towards the bed and added his mouth to the mix.

In the months they had been dating, he had catalogued  _ many _ Betty Cooper sounds. He knew the first bite of ice cream moan, the bad-cramp-time-of-the-month groan, and the terrible call from work grunt. He had never heard the sound she made just then before and he wanted more of it.

He anchored her hips to the bed so she wouldn’t jolt and hurt herself and continue his gentle assault, looking up to watch her eyes roll back in her head and her fingers fist the sheets. Before he knew it, she was trembling beside him, calling out his name and reaching her hand down for his. He waited until she was relaxed again before slowly removing his digit and snaking himself back up the bed to peck at her cheeks, her eyelids, and her lips.

“I’m  _ so  _ proud of you, Betts,” he whispered. “That was-”

He stopped when he saw wetness on her cheeks, but a radiant smile on her face.

“Are you alright?” he asked confused.

“Holy shit, Jug,” she laughed out between tears. “I never thought… that was… thank you.”

She kissed him hard, both of their lips upturned in grins and pushed him down on his back in bed, turning the tables. 

“I believe I’d like to thank you properly,” Betty smiled. “Pants off, boyfriend.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

…..

They had one day left in the small beach town and Betty didn’t intend on wasting it. They would leave after dinner that night to head home, all of them having to return to work the following day. With their friends nursing hangovers and sleeping late, they snuck off to a quiet cafe with porch seating for breakfast, filling up on eggs, pancakes, bacon, and some incredible iced coffees while the sea breeze cut the morning heat.

“I know I’m going to sound boring and like a typical privileged, middle-class worker, but I love it here, Jug,” Betty groaned over a forkful of pancake.

“I like you here,” he smiled. “You’re more at ease and the sun definitely agrees with you. Maybe if the Lodges and Veronica don’t mind and aren’t around we could come back down again at some point this summer. I wouldn’t object to more time here with you.”

Finishing their meal, Betty dragged him to the historic square nearby snapping selfies near old fountains and Victorian backdrops. Looking at the photos, she couldn’t help but notice that his smile wasn’t forced. He was just as happy here as she was.

Her mind drifted back to the night before and she wanted to cry again, tears of happiness, not sorrow. Never in her life did she trust someone as much as she trusted him, and she couldn’t imagine trying this with anyone else. For the first time in a long time she felt lucky, blessed even.

They spent the afternoon popping into shops, picking up some souvenirs for Junie and Dagwood and some handmade soaps and lotions from the boutiques nearby. In a gag gift shop, Betty had bought him a mug for his collection that read, “ _ Look At Me Becoming An Author and Shit _ ,” and then stopped in a coffee bean store to buy a variety of flavored and regular bags of whole bean coffee to take home. They ended their afternoon adventure with some ice cream, orange swirl for him and mint swirl for her, before strolling back to the house, taking the walkway along the beachfront.

Their friends were sprawled out on anti-gravity chairs around the pool, sunglasses concealing their weariness from the night before, but fresh bloody Mary’s in their hands nonetheless.

“Wow, you guys look great,” Betty taunted as they flopped down in chairs nearby. “Good night, huh?”

Cheryl pushed her glasses down her nose to glare at her cousin before popping them back on her face again.

“It was a gem of an evening,” Cheryl drawled. “We just shouldn’t have mixed vodka and rum… and tequila… and whiskey.”

Jughead looked at the collective group of them, barely functioning and licking their wounds, wondering why anyone would ever  _ choose _ to drink that much willingly.

“And what about you Cousin Betty?” Cheryl asked dangerously. “Jughead try to diddle the skittle?”

“Is that like a girly drink?” Archie asked innocently. 

“Definitely a girly drink of sorts,” Veronica blasted through a hand clamped over her lips, surpassing her laughter.

“You gotta stick with beer, bro,” Archie urged. 

“That may be,” Veronica continued, her eyes shining with mischief. “But sometimes one just Iikes a change of pace. What about you B? Enjoy it?”

“For all your teasing I’m going to make you wait until girls brunch this weekend to find out,” Betty shot back, grabbing Jughead’s hand as she stood and tugging him towards the house. “We’re going to pack.”

“That what they call it nowadays?” Toni yelled across the lawn.

Archie lay back in the sun again, muttering to himself.

“... why he just wouldn’t stick with beer makes no sense to me..”

They all grabbed dinner at an outdoor seafood spot before piling in their cars to head home. Betty took one last look out over the water and the peaceful expanse of sand at its feet. Wrapping her sweater tightly around her shoulders, she headed for the car, more hopeful than she had been in a long time.

The rest of the week home was busy with work, Jughead meeting with his publisher and Betty back to her investigative beat. They barely had time off in common to relax and passed each other with sweet kisses and knowing grins on their way in and out the front door.

On Saturday morning, Jughead awoke to find the bed beside him devoid of the blonde mop of hair he had come to find comfort in, no doubt already at her girls brunch, but a white shadow box was in her place.

Inside on white, thick card stock, lay some sand from their trip with a sea turtle constructed out of the sea glass they collected. The broken scallop that had formed a heart was also on the page, a ‘J’ and ‘B’ scrawled on either side. Last, the strip of photos from the photo booth at the fair was adhered to the corner.

Smiling, he rose from bed. When she arrived home that afternoon, it was hung on their living room wall, Jughead sprawled out on the couch asleep below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Messages and thoughts are always appreciated!


	8. The Publishing Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pumpkins, food, and celebrations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with me and reading! 
> 
> Many thanks to @jandjsalmon for the edits!
> 
> Chat with me on tumblr about fics and such @likemereckless

**Saturday, October 16**

**Baskin’s Farms**

**New York State**

Mid-fall brought about warmer temperatures than normal, but the air was still crisp and breathable, a nice change from the stickiness of the Indian summer the northwest had just emerged from. The trees had not yet turned into all their majestic fall rainbows, but there were subtle changes about.

The sun angle was not as direct and you could smell the cold every once in a while if you tried. The apple orchards were thrilled, as they were still blooming quite late into the season and pumpkin patches were filled with screaming toddlers and busy families.

Veronica had insisted they complete her list of “basic” fall activities so somehow Jughead found himself and their friends at a farm, far out into New York State. The two-hour drive had been worth the incredible views the farm offered and the advantage that many families had opted for closer more local venues.

Baskin’s Farm was not only open for apple and pumpkin picking, but offered hayrides, wine tasting from a local winery, and homemade ice creams and baked goods. They had spent most of the morning apple picking, Jughead hoisting Betty up to get the juicy, untouched apples high up in the trees on the pretense that he would receive numerous apple-spiced baked goods over the following weeks.

With the apples bagged, they all sat around the tented tables near the winery booth sampling the various chardonnays, pinot noirs, malbecs, and Sauvignon blancs that Christensen Vineyards offered.

“Not bad for wine made in the northeast,” Archie offered. “Though it’s hard to take in after all the wines we had in France last month, right Ronnie?

“Oui, mon amour,” Veronica agreed with a sip of her glass.

“What do you think, Jug?” Archie asked. “Not bad for local, right?”

“Arch, today I’ve had pumpkin spice coffee and pumpkin swirl ice cream. I should basically be wearing leggings and ugg boots right about now. Please don’t ask me to critique the grape water you have me drinking.”

“You’ve been a true sport, Juggie,” Betty grinned, pecking a kiss on his cheek. “Why don’t we hike out to the pumpkin patch and you can get some inspiration for your next book.”

“Yes!” Toni cheered, clapping her hands. “I want to carve a jack-o-lantern for Topaz Tats, opening in six weeks.”

Jaws dropped as Toni and Cheryl grinned broadly, proud to have dropped the bombshell on their friends so expertly.

“Toni, that’s amazing!” Jughead beamed, pulling her in for a hug, followed by the rest of their friends. “When did this all happen?”

“We’ve been working on it since August and wanted to keep it a surprise until we knew the opening date. Free tats for all of you at the grand opening if you so choose!”

“We wouldn’t miss it for anything, T,” Veronica reassured her. “Look at us, all grown up and successful.”

They took the hayride halfway out to the pumpkin patch, opting to hike to the farther one than the recreated miniature patch meant for children at the end of the ride. The patch was situated farther uphill and from the top, you could see rolling hills and countryside for miles. While everyone went to look for pumpkins, Jughead settled his back against a mangled old oak and stared out over the foliage.

They had a party for his book release next Saturday. Their friends would obviously be in attendance, along with his father and Betty’s mother. Archie was breaking ground on a huge project that put Andrews Construction II at the forefront of construction in New York, and Toni was finally getting her dream of opening her own tattoo parlor. Cheryl and Veronica were already successful and Betty’s big break in the fashion industry with her story the past summer had newspapers knocking on her door. 

Jughead ran a hand through his hair and sighed. It was all good. It seemed  _ too _ good. In his life, he had come to expect that every good situation came with seven other bad ones. He had his dream career unfolding before him with his dream girl next to him each night and yet he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Hey, you.” Betty sat down beside him, nudging his knees with her own. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Do I look so cheap that I’d cave for a penny?” he replied, placing a hand on her knee.

“You’re pretty easy, Jug.”

“Fine,” he conceded. “I’m just sitting here thinking about how everything has been going so well for everyone and us, and how happy I am for Toni, but…”

“But you’re waiting for something to go wrong…” she finished for him.

Jughead just nodded and gave her knee another squeeze.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. That’s how it’s always worked for me. Dad gets a job, dad starts drinking, dad loses his job, mom walks out. Dad cleans up, dad starts drinking again, I become homeless, dad goes to jail. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Jughead, I know you’ve had a rough, raw deal,” Betty said softly, drawing his face back to look at her when he turned away. “But sometimes good things are just good things. You’re a good man. The best one. And good things will keep happening to you and you have to be ready to accept them.”

Staring out over the hills again, he was quiet for a while before softly answering.

“Okay,” he said simply.

“Okay,” Betty smiled. “Now, off this sad tree and let’s go find a pumpkin to carve. I have  _ so  _ many carving ideas.”

…..

**Friday, October 22**

**Bowery Meat Company**

**East Village**

With the book release party scheduled for the next day, Alice and FP had caught the early train into New York. FP insisted on taking them out to a fancy dinner to celebrate Jughead’s success, claiming his son would be too busy at his own party tomorrow to socialize with them. 

They had arrived at their apartment around three and spent a bit of time catching up before heading over to the hotel where they had booked rooms to dress for dinner. At seven they met at a fairly old and well-known steakhouse known for their aged meats, great cuts, and steep prices.

The meat-centric restaurant featured old, oak wood booths and exposed wood beams on the high ceilings. The place brought an old, Bugsy Malone New York type feel to patrons as they dined on seventy-dollar cuts of ribeye.

Betty and Alice slid into the semi-circular booth first, FP and Jughead on either side of them, taking in the scenery around them.

“This is nice dad,” Jughead said shiftily. “Maybe a little  _ too much?  _ We could always leave and go somewhere a bit less  _ New York _ .”

At one time, FP would have taken Jughead’s reluctance as an insult, when he was drinking and broke, but spending like Warren Buffett. Now, he just smiled a wide grin across the table and slapped Jughead’s hand with his own, pride radiating from his body.

“Not every father can say their son is a published author, a second contract already pending when his first book hasn’t even been released. I came here to celebrate, and I haven’t done a lot of that for you in your life, so let me have this one, boy.”

Jughead gave a small smile and a curt nod to his father, looking up to accept a menu from their waiter, Matteo, who appeared. They read through the menu for a while, talking about sides and options before placing their orders when Matteo reappeared.

Alice and FP had chosen some housemade ricotta with rosemary and sea salt and grilled bread and some Kung Pao duck wings with toasted peanuts, cilantro, and yuzu ranch dressing for appetizers. 

For dinner, FP had talked Alice into sharing the two-person, forty-ounce porterhouse while Jughead and Betty opted to share the twenty-ounce Chateaubriand and FP ordered a bottle of Cloudline Pinot Noir to start off the table.

“So, Jughead,” Alice smiled. “Do we get a preview of this book? Betty said you let her read it, but you haven’t let her see the final product.”

Another server appeared with their bottle, pausing Alice’s interrogation for a moment, pouring their glasses full of wine. Alice swirled hers around as did FP before lifting their glasses to sniff the crimson liquid.

“Strawberry and vanilla?” he puzzled her way.

“I think some oak spice, too,” Alice grinned back before they both sipped and smiled.

“When did you become a wine connoisseur, Dad?” Jughead asked, surprised.

“Your father and I took a series of wine and whiskey tasting classes over the summer, Jughead,” Alice explained as she set her glass back down, sending a challenging glance towards her daughter and her boyfriend.

Wrinkling you’re her nose, Betty finished her sip of wine and placed her glass back down on a coaster. 

“Since when have you two been hanging out?” 

“Riverdale’s a small town, Betty,” FP shrugged. “Alice and I got to talking because of you two and decided we could both use a friend.”

Betty’s expression softened at FP’s admission, but Jughead remained more skeptical, FP shooting him a look that screamed, ‘Drop it.’

Alice took a deep breath sensing the silent conversation and changed the topic back to its original focus.

“Your book, Jughead?” 

Jughead shifted nervously at the table, fidgeting with the napkin in his lap. “I actually have a copy in Betty’s purse. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I thought maybe I’d share it with you guys after dessert tonight.”

Matteo chose that moment to reappear, placing their appetizers down on the table and they all dug in, dropping the book talk and keeping the conversation light. Betty all but moaned at the taste of the housemade ricotta and Jughead’s eyes darkened and his jaw dropped.

Betty wiped a stray bit off her lip and smirked self-consciously up at him from behind her napkin.

“What?” she asked.

Shaking his head he leaned in to speak quietly into her ear.

“It’s just that if you make that sound tonight, I’ll know I’m doing something right.”

Betty’s flush deepened, but she also gave an involuntary shudder as Alice downed the rest of her wine and rolled her eyes and FP nodded appraisingly.

“For heaven’s sake, Jughead. You have an Irish whisper and I most certainly don’t need an advance preview of whatever it is you plan on doing to my daughter later.”

Jughead shoved a Kung Pao duck wing in his mouth and kept it full until after dinner.

With their plates cleared and leftovers packed up, they sat back in the booths, full from the meal.

“That was the most delicious steak I’ve literally ever tasted, FP,” Betty said sweetly. “Thank you for bringing us here tonight to celebrate. Juggie doesn’t love attention, but he deserves it.”

Though they were excruciatingly full, FP would not allow them to ignore dessert, claiming it was unAmerican. Matteo appeared a few moments later with a cheesecake for Alice and FP to share and a chocolate chip cookie skillet for Betty and Jughead.

Feeling warm from all the wine, Jughead fed Betty a bite of cookie and ice cream off his spoon, his hand perched on her thigh concealed under the table. The warm chocolate chips that had melted left a smear of chocolate across her bottom lip and he leaned in for a kiss to lick it away. For a moment Betty lost herself before remembering their parents’ presence and pulling away, her mother and FP both graciously looked away while smiling down at their forks.

When the dessert dishes were pushed back, Jughead finally reached for Betty’s bag, pulling out the copy of his novel.

“I have one for each of you, but I didn’t want to lug three of them here tonight. I’ll make sure you get them tomorrow.”

Jughead paused then, feeling like he should make a speech for them more intimate than his generic thank you for the party tomorrow, but his words failed him. How an author could find himself so blank and inarticulate was mystifying.

“I just want to thank you all for, uh, being here for tomorrow. I’ve wanted this for a really long time and having you all here to support me and be a part of it makes it that much better. Who knew a kid from the wrong side of the tracks would be a published author.”

“Me!”

“We did.”

“Always.”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, awkward from the praise, Jughead handed the book to Betty first.

Betty drew her fingers over the cover, feeling the sheen on the new hardcover jacket. She had always loved the feel of a new book under her fingertips, but the mere fact that Jughead had penned this one settled a feeling of pride so deep in her chest that she couldn’t explain.

She traced her fingertips over the art, Jughead opting for a simpler style than the bold, gold lettering many of his murder mystery counterparts opted for. The antiqued feel of his color scheme and the watercolor art were a beautiful and eye-catching rendering of the setting of his novel,  And the River Will Cleanse .

“Open it,” Jughead managed to choke out after a few moments, his voice thick and gruff. Seeing Betty hold his book, the first outside of the hands of the publishers, was emotional. If he felt this depth of feeling over a novel, he couldn’t imagine how he’d react to seeing her hold their child for the first time, pushing that though back into the depths of his mind for a much later date, unsure where the sentiment even came from.

Betty flipped through the opening pages and Jughead guided her hands a few pages in, stopping the dedication page, his nerves in his throat. He didn’t say anything, but he kept his hand on the page so she couldn’t turn any and his eyes on hers.

Betty’s eyes scanned the small expanse of writing once, twice, and then a third time before looking up at him, misty and stunned.

“How?” she managed to breathe. out, hand sliding over the page. “Why? Jug, this was already in publication before…”

“Yeah, it was,” he smiled.

“How did you get them to agree to change it?”

He simply shrugged and let his right hand brush over the soft skin of her cheek. “It was never changed, Betty.”

Realization flashed in her eyes as she looked down at the book again and read his words for the fourth time.

_ For Betty. This book is for us and our former sixteen-year-old selves, lost in mysteries, together. Without you, there would be no stories to weave, no tales to tell. _

Closing the book, Betty made sure the table in front of her was clean before sliding the hardcover down, slipping her hand across his jaw, and kissing him fervidly, company be damned. Their lips were both upturned in smiles, though wetness spattered her cheeks and sprinkled onto the tip of his nose.

Curious, FP grabbed the book and Alice scooted closer to examine the cover and read the dedication inside, Alice resting her head on FP’s shoulder for a brief moment as they smiled contagiously at the couple across the booth, Betty’s forehead now resting against his own.

“I was going to tell you sooner,” he fidgeted, playing with the bottom edges of her hair that she had left down for the night. “But I wanted to surprise you, for you to know that I’ve been sincere all along. I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I chickened out on having such a big audience.”

“This was perfect, Jug. Better than perfect. I love it and I’m so, so proud of you. I can’t wait to read it all.”

“Betty, you’ve read it like fifty times as you helped me with every word choices and character line,” he laughed.

“Yes,” Betty said sweetly. “But I haven’t read the official, actual published, dedicated to  _ me _ , hardcover version.”

Finally remembering they weren’t alone, Jughead looked over to acknowledge their parents, now separated with a bit of space in between them.

“I can’t believe I’m holding your book, boy,” FP sighed emotionally. “It looks amazing and your dedication was perfect. I’m not just proud of my son, the author, but the man you’ve become for yourself, and for Betty. And I owe you thanks, too, Betty. I don’t think he’d be as strong and put together as he is today without you by his side. He’s a good man through no actions of my own.”

“Jughead, we are so proud of you, honey,” Alice beamed. “I’m going to do a write-up so big on this that everyone who hasn’t preordered will have a copy by next weekend.”

Jughead looked around. His stomach was full and so was his heart. Maybe Betty was right. Maybe good things can just happen sometimes without the darkness creeping in the shadows.

  
  


**Saturday, October 23**

**The Flatiron Room**

**New York, NY**

Stanwell Publishing had rented out the Flatiron Room for the book launch party. While many companies had begun to extinguish this particular celebration, they held fast and tight to their old traditions and ways. These launches give authors an opportunity to meet, mingle, and ultimately endorse each other’s work, boosting sales for the company overall.

This particular venue boasted a dark interior, but with gorgeous, illuminated bar service and live jazz music on stage. For the occasion, Veronica had insisted on dressing Betty and Jughead in one of the labels her fashion firm had signed. The suit she had fitted him for probably cost more than his entire closet.

When he stepped out of his bedroom, Betty’s nostrils flared as she took him in. From his perfectly fitted black pants to the deep blue of the smooth fitted shirt he wore, Jughead looked edible. The jacket was slim and form-fitting and he opted for no tie, leaving the top button open. On his wrist, he wore the watch she had gifted him that morning to celebrate his first publication.

Betty wasn’t the only one doing some appraising. He started at her feet and the impossibly high jeweled heels she wore and traveled up the deep, midnight blue silk fabric of her dress, his eyes tracing the slit in the side that ventured far up, almost too far up to be seen in public. The top of the dress left a deep V in the front and was held up by the thinnest spaghetti straps of the same shimmery fabric. With her blonde hair piled on her head in an updo, she was a vision.

“Well hello there, handsome,” Betty teased, sauntering over to him. “Lucky me to be hanging on your arm tonight.”

He traced the slit on the bottom of her dress, his one hand coming to rest on the warm skin of her hip underneath, the other tracing the V of the dress, eliciting goosebumps on her skin.

“I think I’m the lucky one. Maybe we should forego the party and just enjoy these fine garments on the floor.”

Betty placed a chaste kiss directly under his ear before pulling away altogether and heading to grab her coat.

“Later. Tonight we mingle and celebrate. Besides, the anticipation will only make it better.”

The bar was full of employees of the publishing office, other contracted authors, invited influencers and book reviewers, along with the few guests Jughead had invited. FP and Alice were seated at a booth in the back alongside Archie, Veronica, Cheryl, and Toni. Another figure sat to FP’s right, Jughead blinking to see if he was actually seeing correctly.

“JB?” he called out incredulously, seeing her smile as she rose from the booth to hug him tightly. “How did you- you have classes in California! How are you here?”

JB gestured towards Betty and pulled away from a Jughead for a moment to greet her with a hug as well.

“Betty called me and asked your publisher to add me to the list and flew me out. She asked him to keep my name off the list officially so it would be a surprise.”

He glanced over at Betty in shock and awe and she simply offered him a half-grin.

“I wanted it to be perfect for you. For everyone to be here.”

Grabbing her elbow, he offered her a quick kiss in thanks, before being snatched away by his publisher to shmooze the crowd. He grabbed Betty by the hand and tugged her with him, knowing it  _ never _ hurt to have a gorgeous girlfriend on your arm in this business, and promised JB some catching up when he was done his rounds.

They chatted about books and New York over cocktails with other authors and reviewers present. Betty had asked for a copy of the guest list a month ago and made sure she knew about each author’s books, reading them completely, or just enough to bring up their strong points in conversation and flatter everyone she met. As awkward as he could be, she helped him break the ice and the conversation flow. He found he wasn’t miserable at all and if, at all possible, he was even more in love with her, as was everyone they met. 

By the end of the night, every author there was tweeting about his book and reviewers were glowing with their feelings on it. He knew that while that may be partially true, the impression he and Betty made played a big role in how they would write him up.

After two hours of small talk, they were able to make their way over to their friends to eat some of the table food that had been out and for Betty to rest her feet.

“You look super hot tonight, Betty,” JB said without a filter. “Like, I want to drool a little bit so Jughead must be dying over there.”

Betty knew she looked good but she had the good graces to at least pretend to be embarrassed by JB’s flattery. Veronica was ready to take credit for it.

“Thank you, tiniest Jones,” she preened. “When I saw the dress arrive I knew it was meant to grace the lean form and fabulous ass of Betty Cooper.”

Jughead downed the rest of his whiskey, requiring a distraction since he was already worked up and his hand just happened to be inside the slit of the gown about a quarter inch away from the ass in question.

“Maybe we don’t talk about Betty’s ass with our parents?” Jughead suggested. “Just a bit awkward.”

Cheryl and Toni, who had been enjoying the open bar immensely, all but guffawed at his chastising commentary.

“Says the guy whose hand is under her dress and on said ass,” Toni shot back in hysterics, Betty turning beat red and wondering if one could die from mortification.

It was now Alice’s turn to down her whiskey. “So, what was the general consensus as you mingled. And yes, I’m entirely just trying to change the topic of conversation.”

They chatted for a while, listening to what the reviewers had said and had a few more drinks while the jazz band played. At some time after eleven, each couple found themselves on the dance floor, swaying to the sounds of some slower, softer jazz, having already danced to some more upbeat tones.

“I’m glad my mom and your dad already know each other so they have someone to hang out with,” Betty said, glancing over to where they were dancing. “It’s nice they aren’t sitting alone somewhere.”

“Mmm. I don’t want to talk about our parents now,” he crooned into her ear, his hand sliding down her bare back. 

“And what would you like to talk about, Mr. Published Author?”

To answer her, he leaned in closer, his tongue, warm and teasingly tracing around the curve of her ear as his hand slipped back down to her hip again.

“How about what I want to do to you as soon as I get you alone?”

He could feel her shiver against him and grinned smugly into her neck. 

“Just another hour,” he promised, pulling back to continue their dance.

When midnight came and guests had cleared, their friends decided to head to another nearby venue, but Betty and Jughead declined. Alice and FP had left fifteen minutes earlier for their hotel. When they left the lounge, Betty found herself pushed up against a metal scaffolding pole along the sidewalk, Jughead’s lips on hers hungrily.

“My publisher had gotten me a room at the hotel a few blocks down. I didn’t think I’d need it but…”

“Yes,” she said breathily, grabbing his hand and tugging him along.

They checked into the room, realizing it was the same location FP and Alice were staying because his publishing office had booked the hotel for them as well. The entire elevator ride to the twentieth floor was spent with Betty pressed up against the mirrored wall, her leg wrapped firmly around his waist.

They separated to find their room, sliding the key card in the lock before edging inside.

Jughead removed his jacket at once, happy to be rid of it, but thankful that Veronica had helped him look the part that evening. Betty sat on the bed, groaning and rubbing at the insteps of her feet as she removed her shoes.

Pulling over the bench from the side of the dresser, Jughead sat down before her and took her foot in his hands.

“Jug, you don’t have to do that. It’s your night-”

“I want to,” he said, pressing his thumb into the tender ball of her foot. “And it’s  _ our  _ night. I wouldn’t have been nearly as charming without you and everything that happens to me or you from here on out is for us.”

His hands continued to dig into her sore feet and she laid back, his strong fingers easing the ache out easily. The repeated knock of a headboard against their hotel wall startled Betty and had her bolt upright with her foot still in his hands.

“Wow,” Jughead nodded. “Good for them.”

Betty just laughed at his impressed expression before it changed to one of explicit intent.

Kissing up her ankle, he smoothed his hands up under the silk of her dress. “What do you say we give them a run for their money?”

Slipping the straps of her dress down her shoulders, he let the blue silk slide down her to pool at the floor as she sat up and deftly undid the buttons on the dress shirt Veronica had chosen, a silent promise to get the expensive fabric dry cleaned since she all but shoved it to the floor.

Within moments they were both undressed, hands fervently exploring exposed skin. Jughead had climbed up onto the bed and Betty had straddled herself across his lap, his face buried in her neck, fingers gripping her hips as they rocked against each other. 

They had progressed to not needing to dilate before fooling around, though Betty still did on the off nights as they still hadn’t had sex yet in the widely accepted definition of the term. They had begun to experiment with this type of contact though, Betty tensed up a great deal the first few times but now it seemed second nature.

It hadn’t been a smooth transition. Some nights she was a complete wall and effectively blocked him out. She’d get upset when he didn’t want her to just please him in those circumstances and he’d yell back that he was happy and it was unnecessary. Sometimes she’d stalk off and cry in the bathroom and sometimes she’d cry on him. The nights were worse when she’d think he was asleep and he’d feel the bed quake next to him as she shed silent tears. When morning came they’d curl up and cuddle together, kissing until they had to get dressed for work, erasing the prior night’s frustrations.

Betty rolled her hips against him and he groaned, biting her shoulder before smoothing the nip with his tongue.

“Betty, if you do that again I swear I’ll be done. You in that dress all night has destroyed all my self-control.”

Feeling dangerous that night, partly from the high of the evening and partly from her attire, she rocked against him again, licking up his pulse and to his ear, nipping at the lobe.

He flipped them faster than a dealer at a blackjack table, Betty now under him and his lips trailing their way down her body. “Fuck, I want you.”

Nipping at her hip bone, he brought her to the edge with his mouth, holding back whenever she was close. They hadn’t brought anything with them and he needed to make sure she was adequately ready. Using first one finger and then two, which they had worked up to for weeks, he teased her mercilessly, her cries of, “please,” and “more,” loud in their otherwise silent hotel room. 

Finally relenting, he pushed her over the edge, soothing her until her body settled. Though exhausted from the night, she was wide awake. 

“How do you want me?” she asked him breathlessly.

“I want to be up against you again,” he panted, already climbing over her.

Betty tossed a pillow under her hips for extra elevation as he settled over her, all but covering her body with his as he moved, sliding back and forth against her frantically and incoherently, burying his face in her chest and she ran her fingers up and through his hair, pulling him closer to her skin. Lifting her legs, she locked them around his waist, bringing him close to being inside her, and just the mere action was enough to have him reeling over the edge.

After a moment to regain his wits, he moved to the side of her kissing her sweetly and softly.

“Love you,” he mumbled sweetly. “Today was a perfect day.”

Her head lay on his chest and when she didn’t respond he looked down to see her frowning, his chest wet with a few tears that had dropped off her nose.

“Hey, what is it? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Immediately she reacted, rolling to look up at him seriously, eyes wide and direct.

“God, Jug, no! Of course not! I would have told you!” Her face softened, but the frown still remained. “I just wish that I was… more for you tonight. That we could have made love to celebrate, for real.” She blushed a bit at the end of her confession, ducking her head to avoid his gaze. “I hate that I can’t even satisfy you properly and I feel… inadequate.”

“Betty, I’m not sure what kind of playboy deity you think I am, but that just now already ranked up there in my top five moments ever and the other four are also with you. I wasn’t lying when I said tonight was perfect.”

“I really was so proud of you tonight, Jug.”

She leaned up to kiss him and he reached down, before she settled back onto his chest, both of them asleep in moments.

They laughed the next morning, donning their formal wear once more since they hadn’t brought extra clothes, kissing and giggling as they shuffled out of the room, only pausing when the door next to theirs also slammed open with another couple wrapped up together in the same manner. 

Both couples stopped dead in their tracks.

“Mom?” Betty gasped, flabbergasted.

“Betty?”

“Dad?”

“Jug?”

An awkward moment of silence filled the hall as they both adjusted to the realization of what each had heard through the walls the previous night and then Alice cleared her throat.

“Perhaps we should all grab breakfast and talk… after you two head home a change, that is.”


	9. The Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little breakdown, a lot of progress, and some new ink.

**Tuesday, November 23rd**

**Betty & Jughead’s Apartment**

The Indian summer heat passed through October, but November brought about a crisp chill to the air abruptly, cooling the city and its residence down to their bones and leaving its lingering effects elsewhere.

“Betty, would you please just open the door,” Jughead pleaded. “I just want to see that you’re alright.”

“Just leave me alone, Jug,” Betty spat back. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

She had walked into the apartment earlier, pecking kisses all over his cheeks and dancing at the idea of stir fry for dinner. As he ran to grab a wok from the cabinet her phone had rung. Betty took the call into her bedroom only to emerge ten minutes later, tears streaming her face and arms wrapped around her body. 

Jughead had dropped the pepper he was cutting to run over to her, but she had pushed him away, retreating to the bathroom where she had slammed the door and efficiently shut him out with the  _ snick  _ of the lock, sliding down to the floor against it, sobs wracking her body.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, the worry evident in his voice. “Are you hurt or is someone we know hurt. Just tell me that much, Betty, I’m sick to my stomach over here.”

He waited but no answer came. Her sobs turned to sniffles and her sniffles turned to soft coughs and deep, gulping breaths. Jughead had sat down and settled on the other side of the door, his back to the wood as well. He heard a thump against the door and assumed it was her head based on the vibrations he felt near his own.

Softly he called, “I’m still here… if you want to talk about it.”

When there was still no reply, he closed his eyes in frustration only to find himself falling backward and sprawling against the bathroom floor, Betty hovering over him, her face swollen and red.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, gesturing to his prime position on the floor. “For this and for not answering you.”

Climbing off the floor, he pulled her against his chest.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Just tell me if you’re alright.”

Betty examined her now bare feet for a moment before padding down the hall into the living room and flipping on the couch, Jughead at her heels.

“That was my doctor on the phone,” Betty sputtered, wringing her hands together. “I had called earlier today about getting birth control. The pill actually.”

Betty looked up at the ceiling, willing herself not to cry again. Taking a deep breath she exhaled slowly, blowing the air through her lips before continuing.

“I had left a message with the receptionist and the doctor just called back. She said being that I’m twenty-five and have never had a successful exam or screening, whatever you want to call it, that I would need to before she could prescribe me the pill.”

“Betty, you don’t-”

“I don’t think I can do it,” Betty cried. “I just wanted to be ready for you! I was ready, Jug! I was ready to try! And now another roadblock!”

Jughead slid closer on the couch, pulling her up against him, her tears unabashedly falling once again.

“Betty there are other ways,” he reasoned with her. “You don’t need to go on the pill. We can use condoms and be careful with timing.”

“I know we can!” she wept angrily. “But you shouldn’t have to do that! You’ve already given up enough for me!”

Jughead rubbed a hand over his face and bounced his leg, agitation mounting.

“Why do you get to be the judge of that?” he shot back. “Don’t I get a say in this at all? This isn’t just about you!”

“That’s my point!” Betty cried, standing up from the couch. “You’ve made this all about me and helping me and taking care of me. I was trying to take care of you!”

He stood up as well, squaring his shoulders and straightening his back to his full height.

“It’s a condom for fuck’s sake! We’re not talking about giving up a kidney!”

Betty opened her mouth to respond before closing it again, repeating the gesture a few times before wagging her shoulders and hanging her head, angrily wiping the tears from her face. Jughead deflated then as well, engulfing her against him, resting his chin on her head. He let her just lay against him for a while, soothing a hand over her back. It was the first time they had raised their voices at each other since they had become a couple and he hated the feeling.

“What is this really about, Betty?” he finally muttered. “This can’t all be over a condom. You know I would never care about that.”

Sniffling against his chest, Betty extracted herself from his embrace and trudged to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Jughead sat down at the kitchen island while Betty leaned back against the counter, the pieces of their dinner scattered like carnage across the countertop.

“You’re right,” Betty whispered after finishing her drink. “This isn’t  _ only _ about birth control. Part of it is about me.”

Putting down her glass she slipped across the kitchen and sat down next to him on a stool.

“Amanda from work, the girl who I always talk about who is engaged to the accountant from the fourth floor, she told me two weeks ago that she had an abnormal test result from her Pap smear. She had to do another test afterward to confirm the cells and do a biopsy. Luckily they caught it early. She had a treatment done where they froze cells and scraped them out and she will get rescreened in six months.”

Betty took his hands in her own and squeezed his palms tightly.

“I was being serious that I am ready to be with you… to try. But when she said I needed an exam I didn’t think I could do it and I felt bad for you, but then started to wonder, what if Amanda never went? What if I’m just a ticking time bomb inside and I have no idea.”

Jughead exhaled the breath he’d been holding in before leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

“You’re not sick, Betty,” he reassured her. “But if you are  _ that  _ worried, for your health, not because of birth control, then we will research and find a way to help you get through this.”

Their dinner was never cooked. He had called for Ppad Thai and they had changed into sweats, watching old reruns of sitcoms on the couch where they fell asleep exhausted.

…..

  
  


**Friday, December 3rd**

**Office of Dr. Marion Grimaldi**

Betty had thrown up three times that morning, her nerves completely on edge. He had made her tea and toast which she had nibbled on a bit, thankfully, but she was unable to stomach much more.

Betty had made an early appointment because she knew she would be a nervous wreck all day. Dr. S has prescribed her an anti-anxiety medication to take prior to the appointment to help ease her nerves and relax. Betty wished it was a tranquilizer instead. She had taken the day off and Jughead had insisted on taking off as well to drive her. 

He had urged her to ask one of the girls to go with her if that made her more comfortable, but she had felt the safest with him and so here he was, sitting in a waiting room with expectant fathers.

“Mr. Jones?” a nurse called out from the doorway. “Ms. Cooper would like you to come in if you don’t mind.”

He slipped his phone back in his pocket and stood, following her down the hall and into a small examination room. Betty looked fragile sitting there, something he would never have associated with her before.

“Hey,” he smiled softly. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t do this without you,” she said, voice small and warbly, her hands red and raw from wringing them together so tightly. “I don’t know if I can do this at all.”

Betty examined his face. She considered whether this was too much to ask of him but then decided he would be more upset if she didn’t ask at all. She was an emotional rollercoaster and she didn’t think she could manage the ride without him by her side. Her muscles were tense and her brain kept flashing back to all those years ago when she was in an office just like this one for the first time. Maybe if she had confided in someone back then, her mother or Polly, she wouldn’t be here, almost a decade later, with her nerve endings on fire.

She had done research before coming and had talked to her doctor. She was going to use small, pediatric sized instruments and go very slowly, talking to Betty the whole time. Betty had even dilated before she arrived to try and help the situation go as smoothly as possible.

The nurse gestured to a chair next to Betty’s side and Jughead took a seat, Betty’s hand moved to grasp his. A few moments later her doctor entered.

“Betty,” she smiled. “You made it this far so already that’s progress.” Turning to Jughead, she shook his hand in greeting. “I’m Dr. Marion Grimaldi. Pleased to meet you.”

“Jughead Jones,” he replied. “I’m just here for, uh…”

She laughed at his awkwardness, used to that with boyfriends and fathers in her office.

“Relax, many patients have someone by their side. Just hold Betty’s hand. I’m going to talk you both through things.”

She gave them a rundown of what would happen and reminded Betty she was in control and could stop things at any time. Jughead had averted his eyes during the chest exam to give Betty privacy but returned his gaze to her face before the doctor began what he knew she was dreading.

“I’m going to go really slowly, Betty,” she said. “This is pediatric sized and probably the size of the fourth dilator in your kit. Scoot down and pop your legs up here.”

Betty could feel her nails squeezing into his skin, but couldn’t stop her grip from tightening. Her muscles were tense and shaking from the added adrenaline her body was producing.

“I’m going to tell you to relax, but I know that’s easier said than done,” Dr. Grimaldi said. “Some patients find it helps their nerves if they do the insertion themselves. Is that something you’d want to try?”

Betty nodded yes in thanks and repositioned herself a bit. Taking the plastic from the doctor, she took a deep breath and slowly began to get it in place, finding that after all her work over the past few years, that part wasn’t too bad. She relaxed back again, her breathing a bit shallow.

“As soon as I get things open I’m going to go as quickly as possible,” her doctor promised. “Alright?”

Betty nodded, unsure of her voice, all but losing it moments later as Dr. Marion began.

“Fuck!” she cried out, squeezing at his hand in what she knew must be a painful grip. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

In a split second he was up and over her, hand still grasped in his, but his chin over her forehead soothing her.

“And done,” her doctor called out. “Just a quick check, no awful plastic things, and you are all set.”

Her body was trembling, but not in any further pain as the doctor finished. It wasn’t as bad as she expected, a few moments of pain towards the midpoint and it was done. 

“I’m going to put you on a super low dose pill, Betty,” her doctor explained. “We don’t need your body and hormones more out of whack. Normally the office requires an exam every year for a refill. If your results are all normal, we will do it every three instead. You may want to consider some pelvic floor physical therapy to finish off your treatments. It will help with the pain and burning.”

When the doctor left she dressed silently, small tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. Grabbing the prescription on the way out, she silently climbed into her rarely used car, having opted not to take public transport that day.

“You doing okay?” he asked cautiously. “Do you feel alright?”

“I feel sore, Jughead,” she snapped curtly, hands rubbing up and down against her thighs. She felt bad for snapping at him, but she was still conflicted and agitated, even though he was not the cause.

“I think anyone would, Betts,” he said as he started the car, hoping to help her feel better.

“You can stop trying to make me feel better, Jug. I’m fine.”

He drove quietly for a minute before his need to make things better got the best of him.

“You did it though,” he said softly. “I’m proud of you and you should be proud of yourself. You want to stop and get some ice cream at that place you love with all the soft serve?”

“I’m not a fucking child, Jug,” Betty snapped. “I don’t need a treat to make me feel better about myself.”

Jughead gripped the steering wheel tightly. Apparently everything he said or did was wrong.

“Well, it’s not for you. It’s for your vagina and for me. I think you damn near broke my hand.”

He waited for a minute for another snarky retort, but instead saw the beginnings of a smirk, then a grin and then a smile, before Betty burst into laughter, him right behind her. Apparently that broke the tension and stopped the tears that had been periodically slipping from her eyelids.

They did stop at her favorite place. They mixed a multitude of different flavors and toppings, ignoring the calorie count and sugar levels for a change. Gummy bears and sprinkles topped the treats and they picked a corner booth to sit in.

“I’m sorry I took everything out on you,” Betty said as they ate. “You’re just the easiest one to give my anger to, but that’s not fair.”

“It was a tough day for you, Betty. I get it. I don’t even know what she was doing, but I can tell you that it made me even more glad I’m a guy. Does it still hurt?”

Betty nodded slightly, opting to stare at her ice cream cup. “Just sore. I think I reacted worse than it actually was in anticipation. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it used to. I didn’t feel like I was being torn apart. And honestly? I’m not even sure why I was crying in the car. Maybe just because it was over and it was an adrenaline let down.”

He took a hunk of blue ice cream that he had put in his cup and offered her a taste. 

Betty took a bite of the blue-colored ice cream on his spoon and wrinkled up her nose in distaste. Waggling her eyebrows at him, she reached for her own cup.

“The good news is, it was manageable and I got my prescription.” Picking up the wooden stick from her own cup, she slid another bite into her mouth. “... And now you can stick me until ‘ice cream’.”

Jughead looked at her giggling over her treat like she had grown six heads.

“Betty Cooper, did you just ‘ice cream-pun’ me?”

“I know how much you love your puns, Jug,” she shrugged. “And I appreciate everything you did for me today.”

“Oh, babe, I’d stop the world and melt with you.”

The gummy bear she threw hit him directly in the forehead.

  
  


**Saturday, December 12**

**Topaz Tats**

The long-anticipated grand opening of Toni’s premiere business had finally arrived. She had reassured them it was a casual affair, no dresses or heals required. Jughead had opted for his well-worn boots, gray casual jeans, a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and his old suspenders, still hanging down.

Betty had decided to fit in with the feel of the establishment, opting for tight black jeans and a black and red tank with a faux leather jacket and some red flats. She knew Cheryl would approve. Though it was cold, she chose flats so she had bare space on her foot. She hadn’t told Jughead yet, but she had told Toni she was taking her up on the grand opening tattoo offer. Toni almost cried she was so ecstatic to “ink up the skin of pristine little Cooper.”

The tattoo parlor was absolutely exquisite, not that they had any doubt it would be with Cheryl involved. It was modern, yet tasteful with an edge, with tons of red, black and exposed brick. There were four tattoo stations set up with moveable walls and screens for privacy when needed. Plush couches and chairs were scattered about for friends and family who accompanied their clientele.

“Yay! You made it!” Toni clapped when they arrived, bamboo plant in hand.

Betty handed over the plant with a card. 

“I was told these represent good luck and fortune in this shape,” she smiled. “And we wish both of those things for you and this gorgeous place you’ve created.”

Toni hugged her tightly. When they met in high school through Jughead, neither would have ever predicted they would have developed such a friendship over the years. While their styles were different, they both had one important thing in common; their large hearts.

“And in my fine new establishment, you, Betty Cooper, will be my very first inking!”

Jughead tossed an amused look at Toni as if she were crazy.

“Toni, Betty’s not…”

He trailed off as he saw the cat that ate the canary look on both of their faces.

“Are you getting a tattoo, Betts?” he grinned, Betty biting her lip and grinning back.

“She’s first and you’re up next,” Toni said happily. “Arch is also getting something done, but he’s going to have Dan do his. I wanted to be Betty’s first and would like to remain the sole artist on the body of Jughead Jones as well.”

Grabbing Betty’s hand, Toni dragged her back to her station, Betty waving a hello to Veronica as she blurred by.

“No tattoo for V?” Betty asked Toni who just shrugged.

“We tried to convince her, but she claims she’s already a work of art.”

Betty climbed into Toni’s chair nervously, but also excited. She had been contemplating this for a while and one of her best friend’s big nights seemed like the right time to bite the bullet.

“Still okay with the design we worked up?” Toni asked as she prepped her station.

“Yes,” Betty breathed out excitedly. “I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

Toni slipped off Betty’s right shoe and began to clean the area with alcohol as Jughead took a seat at Betty’s side, excited to see what she picked. Then, with a disposable razor, Toni scraped the area for any dead skin or tiny hairs that may ruin the inking, before rubbing some soap and water over the site and placing the transfer over the side of her foot. 

As she peeled it back, Betty already loved the design she had chosen. It was a small pen with the words, “Once upon a time…” spilling out the side as if being drawn, a reminder of her love for reading, writing, and also deciding how her own story ends. She was the author, not a character without free will.

“What do you think?” she asked Jughead hopefully, wanting him to love it as much as her.

“I think it’s perfect. It’s going to hurt like a bitch and I’m afraid you might actually break my fingers this time, but I love it.”

Betty slapped him playfully and then Toni slapped her.

“Stay still, Cooper. I’m ready to work my magic.”

Toni rubbed ointment over the transfer site and looked up at Betty in anticipation.

“Don’t hold your breath when I start, Betty,” Toni urged. “The first two minutes will be the worst and then you will adjust to the pain. You picked a tough spot for a first tattoo, not very fatty, but I know you can handle it.”

The machine in Toni’s hands whirred to life and she began to trace the linework on Betty’s foot. As Toni had promised, at the first strokes of the needle she wanted to hold her breath and bolt, but she breathed through it, watching Toni work. After a few minutes, Toni spoke without looking up.

“You good, B. Coop?”

“I’m okay,” Betty said breathily, still gripping Jughead’s hand.

“You good, Jones?”

When he didn’t respond, Betty glanced over to find his pupils wide and his mouth slightly opened. 

“Jug?” she called.

“This is so hot,” he all but growled, eyes darting from the tattoo, up to Betty’s face, and then back down.

“Typical man,” Toni smirked, continuing her work.

After a while Betty relaxed into a rhythm, the hum of the needle lulling her into a stupor. When Toni had finished the outlining, she filled in the open spaces of the pen and words in various cascading shades of green. Betty was in love.

“Not bad for your first ink, Cooper,” she nodded impressed. “You barely flinched.” She finished off by taking a photo to add to her wall and the collage of friends she was making to sit over her station before changing out the equipment to ready herself for Jughead.

“Cousin Betty,” Cheryl gasped. “I love it! My TT is the very best so it’s only fitting you have a Topaz original.”

“I think I have  _ the  _ original,” Jughead grimaced, referring to the snake tattoo she had inked on him back in high school.

“You should be proud, Jonesy! That snake and the crown I tattooed on you in my early years will be a badge of honor when I’m world renown.”

When her station was cleared, she reset up for Jughead. 

“Same design we had discussed on your wrist?” Toni asked, surprised when Jughead shook his head.

“I want that pen instead,” he said a bit shy, pointing to the one she had just done on Betty’s ankle.

Toni gave him a sly look that screamed ‘poor sap’ while Betty gave him what could only be described as heart eyes. An hour later a new, green pen graced his wrist.

The party culminated with Toni cutting a large ribbon, red of course, and after thanking them all for their support, the guests began leaving one by one. After Archie’s tattoo, Veronica and Archie excused themselves early. Betty and a Jughead were the last to leave after helping Toni and Cheryl clean up.

Jughead was silent on the subway ride home, bouncing his fingers against her knees. Betty had seen this type of tension in his jaw before; Jughead wanted her and he wanted her now. Betty spent most of the ride rubbing at the spot behind his ear and playing with small tendrils of hair, completely innocent, yet driving him nuts.

He remained silent on the two-block walk to their apartment, up the elevator, and down the hall. The moment the door was unlocked, he pushed it open, slammed it closed and picked her up and carried her down the hall to her bedroom, the room they had been sharing, tossing her onto the bed.

“Wow, the tattoo really did it for you,” Betty said, her giggle swallowed by his lips on hers hungrily.

“So hot,” he repeated, pushing off her jacket and grabbing at her tank top. Latching his lips onto hers, he pulled her mouth open with a firm grip on her chin his tongue finding hers aggressively. Within moments their clothes had been shed and greedy hands were everywhere.

Betty nipped at his earlobe and traced the curve of his ear with her tongue, knowing it drove him insane. 

“I want you,” she whispered.

“I want you, too,” he growled back.

“No, Jug. I want you. I want to go all the way with you. Tonight.”

He pulled back and stared at her, eyes wide and excited.

“Betty, are you sure? We can wait…”

“I’m positive. I want to try.”

“But it should be-”

“Jughead Jones, if you tell me it should be special I will bite you. I want this.”

Jughead ran a frantic hand through his hair. “Okay. Should we uh, should you like, prepare? Or like…”

“No,” Betty whispered softly. “It may go all wrong and it may not work, but I want to try. I just want us to try and be normal. The way you looked at me all night…”

Jughead looked very unsure, shaking his head softly. “I don’t know, Betts. I don’t want to disappoint you if things go wrong.”

“Jug, one thing I’ve learned on this journey with you is that something will definitely go wrong. And if it doesn’t work, we will just try again. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, kissing her again. “Yeah.”

He slowed things down, kissing her thoroughly, yet sweet, as she ran her fingers up and through his hair. They kissed for a long while, hands exploring, before he trailed his lips down her body stopping to lavish attention on her chest before continuing to his intended destination. 

With his talented tongue and hands he brought her over the edge, making sure to prepare her as much as he possibly could.

“I’m ready, Jug,” Betty said breathlessly, but happy. “I mean, as ready as I can be. I love you.”

“I love you,” he added with a kiss. “How should we? Do you want to get on top? Or should I?”

“Um, let's try you on top first,” she said, shifting into the middle of the bed.

Jughead positioned himself over her, his eyes glued to hers, hands shaking a bit. Betty reached up to palm his cheek, smiling up at him gently.

“Love you,” she whispered again.

Reaching down, he positioned himself carefully before pushing just the slightest bit forward. Betty inhaled deeply, eyes squinting and her fingers grasping his shoulders.

“Should I stop?” he asked, using all of his strength to control his impulses.

“No,” she said quickly. “It’s just that initial burn. I think we may be okay.”

“Okay,” he trembled, slowly pushing forward a bit more, meeting resistance from her body. “I can’t seem to- I feel kind of stuck.”

She grit her teeth and took a deep breath. “Yeah. Me too,” she winced. “Maybe I should get on top?”

“Yeah,” he groaned, pulling out and flopping down next to her, Betty climbing over him, straddling his waist. “Plus, I like this view.”

Settling on her knees, she tried to sink down onto him, the same resistance and intense burn as before stopping the motion abruptly. Frustrated, she hung her head.

“I think we need more lubrication,” Jug said. “I’ll get the coconut oil?”

Rolling off of him, Betty nodded and he sprinted like an Olympic marathon runner out of her room, across the apartment, and into his own to grab the five-pound tub of coconut oil he bought before running back and hopping in bed. Frantically, they opened up the jar and both grabbed a healthy dosage of the coconut oil before jumping each other once again.

He climbed on top again, managing to get a bit further than before, but her muscles were so tight they were extinguishing him.

“Ouch...Betty,” Jughead panted. “I don’t think I can manage at this angle. Maybe something else?”

Separating, Betty suggested they try spooning next. They went from spooning to, hands and knees, to Betty on top, back to missionary, barely getting further each time, until finally the pressure and tightness were too much on him and his excitement dwindled.

“I killed you,” Betty pouted, and rather than cry, they both burst into hysterics.

“Are you alright?” he asked as they lay in a tangled blob, red, blotchy, and covered in coconut oil.

“Jug, we may not have gotten you in me, but I’m not in a terrible amount of pain, I’m not crying, and I don’t feel worthless because of what just happened. It’s the exact opposite. I do feel a little bad that I squashed your little dude.”

“Please don’t ever call him little dude again. It’s emasculating. But I’m glad that was your most successful, unsuccessful attempt yet. We’ll get there. Maybe next time we go with just a little bit of preplanning… and avoid candles. I think with the amount of coconut oil we’re slathered in this whole damn room would go up in flames.”

Howling with laughter, they rolled into each other again, kissing and giggling about how tighter and bigger aren’t always better and how their logistics aerobics that night would have made Betty’s yoga teacher proud.

Two days later she scheduled a consult for pelvic floor physical therapy. They may not have been perfect from the get-go, but they would get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone wanted to see them successful, but it wouldn’t be realistic! I’m sorry! As it is, I’m definitely speeding things up! SOON! I promise!


	10. The Not-So-First, First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big changes come for all the friends.  
> They eat more cheese.  
> Vacations are had.
> 
> Read on!
> 
> Thanks to @jandjsalmon for the beta work!  
> Chat with me on Tumblr about the story: @likemereckless

**Saturday, January 8th**

**Clinton Street Baking Company**

**Lower East Side**

It was Betty's turn to choose their brunch spot and she chose one of her favorites. It was an indulgent cafe with decadent pancakes and savory food, sure to pack on the calories.

The perks of not being loaded like Cheryl and Veronica was her apartment on the lower east side was surrounded by an abundant number of restaurants, bars, and cafes. More often than not, her friends were the ones doing the travelling over to her neck of the woods when they hung out.

She was surprised Cheryl and Toni had never moved since their neighborhood was very family-oriented. But, she supposed, that when you have unlimited transportation cash at your disposal, you can afford to pay for a park view and voyage out for meals.

Betty sat alone at the table, waiting for her friends to arrive. They hadn’t seen each other since their annual Christmas dinner the week after Toni’s grand opening. This brief hiatus was unusual for them, but with the busy holiday season, they had all been unable to coordinate their schedules. Even their standing brunch date had taken a hit. 

For the first time in years, they hadn’t spent New Year’s Eve together. Cheryl had absconded away with Toni to a cabin in Colorado and Veronica had contracted a stomach bug. Betty and Jughead had spent their first New Year’s Eve as a couple completely alone and they didn’t mind one bit.

Betty had cooked tons of miniature appetizers for food and Jughead had concocted fancy cocktails for her so she felt as if she were out on the town. They had watched old movies and Rockin’ New Year’s Eve in Times Square, snacking and laughing, happy in their little bubble. It was the most relaxing and promising New Year’s Eve she’d had to date. Before midnight, she had slipped into a black and silver nightie she had purchased for the occasion. They didn’t see the ball drop.

The clacking of heels alerted her to their arrival and she glanced up from the menu she’d been staring at to find her friends. Hugs and greetings were passed around as they settled in to catch up.

“I can’t believe it’s almost been a month since we hung out,” Toni guffawed. “Is this what happens when you get old?”

Cheryl, flicking her hair back behind her hair, took a sip of the bottled water Betty had ordered for the table, knowing her friends would never drink tap. “Speak for yourself, TT. I am young and vibrant and will remain so.”

The waiter came around to take breakfast orders. They all skipped their usual healthier dishes in exchange for some of the sinful delights on the menu, adding in mimosas as well.

“And for you, miss?” the waiter asked Veronica last.

“I’ll have the Nutella stack with the maple bacon,” she grinned.

“And a mimosa as well, ma’am?” he inquired.

“Just water for me, thanks,” she smiled.

Betty eyes her friend curiously and Veronica winked back with a sly smile.

“Are you still feeling ill, Ronnie?” Cheryl asked, rubbing at Veronica’s back. “I probably have a pill for that.”

Veronica took a few breaths and nodded slowly. “I am still feeling ill, but not in the way that you think. I may have bent the truth a little on New Year’s Eve. I was puking, but not from a virus. I’m pregnant.”

Toni’s jaw had dropped, Betty bounced and clapped in delight, tears shining in her eyes, and Cheryl had screamed so loud that a waiter almost dropped his tray.

“V!” Betty beamed warmly. “I can’t believe this! I’m so excited for you and Arch! How did this all happen?”

“Well, Cousin Betty,” Cheryl began tauntingly. “When a man and a woman love each other very much…”

Betty shoved her cousin as they all laughed, turning back to Veronica to wait for an explanation.

“After we talked in July, I spent a lot of time thinking. Archie didn’t press me at all. He was… so great. One Saturday in August while I was stressing at brunch over fashion layouts I saw a little girl at a table, playing alone while her Mom was working and talking on her phone. She kept making faces at me and we were playing back and forth and I realized, I want this. And I want to do it right. That little girl reminded me of myself while my parents worked and I know Archie will be an amazing and present father. So, I went off my birth control and by November I was pregnant.”

‘Awwws’ and smiley pouts circled around their table and it was only when a teardrop hit her plate that Betty realized she was crying.

“B?” Veronica cooed. “Are you crying?”

Betty dabbed at her eyes with her napkin, waving a hand at her to say she was fine. “I’m just so happy for you and Archie, V. You’re going to have the luckiest little human in the world.”

Veronica gripped her hand across the table, giving it a squeeze. A moment later their hands were joined by Cheryl and Toni’s a sparkly new piece of bling adorning a particular finger.

“Toni?” Veronica gaped. “Is that what I think it is?”

“If you think it’s the Tiffany setting engagement ring, then it’s what you think it is,” she twinkled, leaving Veronica to yell out this time, the waiter able to manage his tray after a slight start the second time.

“When?” Veronica shrieked. “How?”

“New Year’s in Colorado,” Toni smiled. “Cheryl set up a whole romantic endeavor on our snow-topped private balcony. It was… surreal.”

“Congratulations, you guys!” Betty said as she teared up again. “I’m so happy for you! And what a wedding it will be!”

“Yes, luckily you will both look good in red as my maids of honor,” Cheryl said with a tight-lipped smile, springing it on them. 

Veronica shrieked, Betty cried, and this time the waiter dropped the tray.

“Okay, so when is this wedding happening and when is this baby due?” Betty inquired, trying to plan her year out.

“The baby is due June fifteenth,” Veronica smiled.

“And we are thinking next October when the maple leaves are red,” Cheryl chirped.

“Oh thank goodness,” Veronica sighed. “I’ll have time to get skinny again  _ and  _ I’ll be able to drink.”

Finally, the waiter showed up with their orders, passing the carb-filled plates around the table.

They dug into their meals, Veronica groaning at the first bite of bacon, before shrugging self consciously.

“What? The baby likes meat.”

“What about you, Betty?” Toni asked “Any news about you, Jones, and… meat?”

Betty rolled her eyes as she chewed her bite of pancakes. “Are you guys ever going to give it a rest?”

“No.”

“Probably not.”

“Never.”

“Right,” Betty nodded. “Well, if you must know, we  _ attempted  _ to do the deed, but apparently my body had tighter security than the Pentagon.”

“What happened, B?” Veronica asked.

Betty chuckled a bit and put her head in her hands. “It was like a terrible comedy sketch, guys… like if Saturday Night Live had an adult version. We were up, down, on my side, on his side, backwards… and I swear we were bathed in coconut oil like greased pigs. Worst of all, I literally suffocated him with my grip. Picture the worst gymnastics floor routine you could imagine followed by squeezing someone into a leotard five sizes too small.”

To their credit, her friends tried to keep straight faces. They nodded, wide-eyed, and tight-lipped until Betty burst into a fit of chuckles. It was like she broke open a dam as all their laughter filtered through.

“I mean, we laughed about it. We expected it to go worse, so this actually was an improvement from what I had thought would happen.”

Toni squeezed Betty’s hand and gave her a wink.

“Practice makes perfect, Betty,” she said to soothe her. “You’ll get there girl.”

Sipping on her orange juice, Betty explained her next course of action.“I’m actually going to physical therapy this week to see if it helps with loosening some of my muscles and trigger points.”

Cheryl put her fork down mid-bite and looked over at Betty in confusion. “Color me curious, cousin. How does running on a treadmill or doing stretches with a kettlebell fix your Fort Knox lady bits?”

Betty blushed awkwardly for a moment before reminding herself that there was nothing wrong with talking about this. She had nothing to be ashamed of.

“It’s not that kind of PT, Cher. It’s, Uh, some external and internal work to release tension in particularly tight points.”

Veronica took everything in, offering Betty a hand in comfort, knowing how hard this must be for her. “It’s good you’re taking care of yourself, B. I’m proud of you.”

Glancing over, she saw the bewilderment written in Cheryl’s face.

“Cher?” Betty prompted her.

Cheryl held out a hand to stop her. “So you’re telling me that you get to go get felt up by a hottie masseuse masked as a PhD and your boy toy fully supports this?”

“First of all,” Betty explained with a laugh. “I’m seeing a female. Michelle McClune. Second, I’m pretty sure he’d like me to get better so I don’t extinguish his flame before we get the fire going.”

The rest of their brunch was uneventful as they talked about Betty’s PT, the wedding, and the arrival of the newest Andrews. It was the longest they had ever gone between brunches, and subsequently their longest brunch. One thing they all agreed on as they parted was that life was good.

…..

**Friday, January 21st**

**Ayza Wine & Chocolate Bar**

Jughead sat at a high top table awaiting his friends. He had called Archie and Veronica earlier in the week and asked to buy them dinner in exchange for their assistance, or at least Veronica’s.

Veronica had agreed as long as she could pick the venue, claiming that the baby dictated her flavor needs on a day to day basis. So when he got a text telling him to meet at Ayza at six, he didn’t argue. Sitting in the small, overpriced and overhyped space, he wished it weren’t deadly to argue with a pregnant woman.

It had been a difficult couple of weeks at home. Betty had been fine, laughing with him back in December over their failed attempt to finally have sex. As the days went on though, she had retreated more into her own head again, wanting to be touched less and less often. Four more failed attempts had left her less inclined to laugh and more inclined to close herself off. The last one had been particularly uncomfortable.

They had done all the suggested preparations and beat foreplay to death. Jughead could see the determination in her eyes and also knew her goal-oriented nature. She wasn’t relaxing and she was definitely over-thinking things. While he may have gotten a bit further than before, her muscle still spasmed out of her control, leaving them in the same boat as their previous tries.

After he flipped off her, he dropped down on his back. They both lay there silently, looking up at the ceiling. He was good with words but didn’t know what to say anymore. Everything he said seemed to make things worse. After a few awkward moments, Betty grabbed his shirt and tossed it on, silently scooting out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. He could hear her crying. When she returned, she wordlessly crawled under the covers, facing away from him. He couldn’t stand that. He spooned up against her and wrapped his arm around her waist. They fell asleep silently.

She was self-conscious and agitated, and constantly making jokes at her own expense about how he should find a ‘real’ woman. Her physical therapy started going well, but he could tell that her mental facade was waning. Her therapist insisted that physically, she was ready. Jughead thought that she was trying a little too hard to make things work and the stress and tension of it all was actually backfiring on them.

“Hello, Jughead,” Veronica smiled, bringing him back to the present. “Thanks for meeting here. So, what did you do?”

Climbing into her chair, Archie slid into the one next to her offering Jug a quick handshake.

“All inquisition, huh?” Jughead retorted. “No, ‘How was your day, Jughead’, or ‘It’s so nice to see you, Jughead’.”

“Fine, it’s nice to see you, Jughead,” Veronica said through a tight grin. “I’m sure you are just  _ loving _ this venue that I chose.”

Jughead weighed his options. He could continue the banter and aggravate her immensely, which in turn would somehow get Archie in trouble which was always fun, or he could play the nice guy. Since he was asking for a favor, he chose the nice guy.

“Hey, if my Godchild wants a thirty-five dollar cheese board, chewy mushroom tarts, and crepe cake brûlée, I will not deny him, or her, their meal of choice. I got your back little dude.”

Veronica pouted and clicked her lips together, her face turning down into a saddened frown, before bursting into tears in front of him. Archie shot him a look that clearly screamed, “Thanks, man.”

“I’m sorry,” she cried, accepting the tissue Archie held out. “Hormones. That was just so sweet. I’m sorry. I was teasing you and then you go and get all lovey on my baby and…”

Jughead tossed Archie a sympathetic look and mouthed, ‘sorry,’ his way before studying the menu with phony fascination.

When her tears subsided, they ordered for the table and then got right down to business.

“So, how  _ did _ you mess up, bro?” Archie asked him, smirking and sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Mess up?” Jughead repeated.

“We figured you pissed off Betty and needed help to make it better,” Veronica explained through a mouthful of bread. “It was bound to happen and I am the master of grand gestures, so…”

Jughead pretended to look offended though he couldn’t disagree with her logic. Looking back at his history he was not the smoothest, but somehow things were easier with Betty.

“I didn’t mess up, I’ll have you know. Things are… great actually,” he smiled. “I never understood what you two had until Betty and I finally got together but I get it now. She’s just stressed out and I want to help her relax.”

Tossing her bread down on her plate, Veronica’s lower lip trembled and curled. She bit it trying to stop the torrent of tears, but they began to fall again. Jughead found himself on the wrong end of Archie’s glare for the second time in less than an hour.

Her tears ended abruptly as the waiter set down a cheese plate before them and her desire for dairy, thankfully, took over.

“So what’s up, Jug?” Archie asked as he reached for some cheese, only to have Veronica swat his hand away and direct him to another type.

“I need your help planning a romantic weekend for Betty,” he explained. “I’ve never really been anywhere and we have off four days for Valentine’s weekend.”

Archie grinned at his best friend and shook his head. “You  _ never _ do Valentine’s Day. You sap,” he laughed, only to be smacked by his wife.

“A girl likes to feel appreciated,” she shot back at him. “What kind of feel are you going for, Jug?”

Jughead had not eaten any cheese yet, he was afraid Veronica may stick a fork in his hand. Instead, he fiddled nervously with the napkin.

“Well, Betty was really relaxed at your shore house and she said the sun made her feel alive,” he shrugged. “I just want her to um, be happy and feel that way again. Maybe somewhere fun to explore, but not too far. Somewhere couply? Is that a word? God, I’m so bad at this.”

Veronica chomped on an olive and eyed him suspiciously. “Is there something you aren’t telling me, Jones? Because you're awfully…” 

She stopped eating suddenly and put her fork down, raising a brow at him in question. He knew what she was asking and glanced up at the ceiling, flushing a bit, before nodding at her.

“What?” Archie asked confused. “What’s the big secret?”

Jughead grimaced and folded his hands as Veronica grinned.

“Nothing, Arch,” Jughead faltered. “I-”

“They’re finally going to do some aggressive cuddling, Archiekins,” Veronica beamed, rolling her eyes at Archie’s puzzled expression. “You know, adult nap time? The bedroom rodeo? Check the oil? A hot beef injection?”

Jughead’s hand flopped down on the table as he looked anywhere but at his friends, wishing he still wore his beanie to pull down over his face. Archie, who finally caught on, wasn’t sure whether to look disgusted or surprised.

“I’m not sure I want to picture any of that,” Archie grimaced. “But really, dude? It’s almost been a year and you two haven’t…?”

“Oh, Archibald,” Veronica sighed. “Our baby’s godfather is quite the gentleman, waiting patiently for our dear, pure unicorn Bettykins to be ready.”

“Unicorn?” Archie inquired. “There’s no way Betty’s still…” He stopped, looking up at his awkwardly uncomfortable best friend who was still intent to examine the floor or the bar area rather than look at them. “Really? Betty hasn’t? You two really haven’t…?”

Jughead rolled up his eyes and made himself even more invisible. Archie looked a bit shocked considering they lived together and were frequently on top of one another. “Wow. Okay. Well, good for you trying to be romantic, bro. Betty, uh, deserves that shit and all…”

As their dinner arrived the awkwardness abated slightly and Veronica’s teasing subsided.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jug?” Archie asked as he cut up his minuscule meal. “I could have given you a few pointers.”

“No offense, Archie, but you cringe every time I kiss Betty. I didn’t think you’d want to hear the details on our bedroom extracurriculars.”

Archie nodded in concession. “Truth. But it’s only because you’re both like my siblings, you know. I mean, I’m happy you guys are together and I know you love each other.”

“Okay enough sap and bro bonding. Plus, from what I hear from B, Jones doesn’t need any pointers,” Veronica interrupted. “Here, I think I have your list. Romantic, yet with exploration. Warm, but not too far. Yes?”

Through a mouthful of slider, Jughead raised his eyebrows and gave her a thumbs up. “That’s the general vibe.”

“Fine,” Veronica sighed over the next bite of her meal. “Hit me with a budget and your credit card. I’ll do the booking. You’re going to Charleston. Non-negotiable. Betty will love it and it’s just what you’re seeking. Expect an itinerary, which is negotiable, meal bookings included, in one week. Now find me the waiter. I need more bucheron.”

…..

**February 13th**

**Charleston, South Carolina**

Betty had been in Charleston for less than two hours and she already felt relaxed and transported back in time. A week ago, Jughead had given her a print out of a weather forecast and told her to pack. She had nagged him all week, asking questions and if she would need to pack this or that.

Finally, he had told her to call Veronica to go through what she might need for her wardrobe, but not to bother trying to get the destination out of her. Her lips were sealed. 

It was exciting and romantic really, being whisked away for a long weekend to points unknown. Based on what she needed according to Veronica’s list, she was sure she was going to be happy with the destination.

Now, having arrived late afternoon and checked into their hotel, she had changed into a lavender sundress and had let her hair fall loosely around her shoulders in soft curls.

“You look ethereal.” He smiled, offering her his hand and tugging her up from the bed into a quick kiss and embrace. “Should we go exploring? Keep today light and simple?”

Betty nodded and practically dragged him out the door. She had always dreamed of visiting this particular city and getting to experience it with Jughead only made her all the more excited.

The old antique furnishings, romantic and abundant flowers, and spiralling staircases made her feel as if she were transported back in time.

“I can’t believe you planned all of this… and for me,” Betty smiled with a shake of her head. “It’s all too much.”

He waved a hand to shush her as they exited into the street out front, right in the center of the city.

Interlacing their fingers, he tugged her across the street to his first intended destination. “I haven’t taken a vacation… well, ever. And you were so happy this summer at the shore house. I figured I had a lot of missed Valentine’s Days I wanted to make up for and we need this. I love our jobs and our friends, but we need to just have time to be us.”

Just across the way, a long bustling market stood, hundreds of table stands and small shops scattered down the multi-block stretch.

“So this is the city market,” he explained. “Most of the stuff here is made by hand by local artisans. There’s also food, so that’s a win for me.”

They spent about an hour browsing the crafts and wares at each table. Betty was enamored with the women weaving sweetgrass baskets on the spot. They were beautiful and so intricately woven. While they’d put a bit of a dent in her debit account, she resolved to grab one for their apartment before they headed home on the sixteenth.

Jughead was excited to hit up an eatery, Callie’s Hot Little Biscuit for the sausage, egg, and pimento cheese sandwich. Veronica was rubbing off on him. He and Betty also grabbed some nitro cold brews along with cheese and chive, black pepper bacon, and cinnamon biscuits. Three hours into his trip and he was in love.

After browsing a while longer through spices and hand-painted art, they exited the market and decided to just stroll, taking in the vibrant colors of the city. They couldn’t help but stop frequently to snap photos of the architecture, of which the city boasted eight types from varying time periods. One moment they’d stroll by pastel Victorian homes only to be accosted by a gothic revival style building the next. 

Betty had a fascination with the wrought iron fences and gates around the city homes and parks, repeatedly stealing Jughead’s camera to photograph the different swirl and scroll styles that were scattered around.

At about five o’clock he had suggested they head back to the hotel for a bit, winking to let her know he had plans for them that she wasn’t privy to. They strolled down a deserted alleyway on the way back to the building, simply labelled Philadelphia Alley, 1766.

Old lamp posts and brick sidewalks gave way to a canopy of trees, shading the salmon and cement-colored walls of the building lining it, their ancient shadow boxes overflowing with vibrant blooms.

Betty was in awe of the beauty and Jughead was in awe of her.

“Jug, it’s like we stepped into the Secret Garden,” Betty gushed excitedly. “It’s complete magic.”

Under an archway of greenery, Jughead tugged on her hand, pulling her back to him before tipping her chin up and kissing her, agonizingly chaste, leaving her lips chasing his own. Shrugging, he smirked shyly down at her as if to say he couldn’t help himself and in response, Betty kissed him back, long and devout, her palm holding his cheeks in place.

Pulling back he shook his head at her. “No distracting me, Cooper,” he teased with a tug of her hand. “C’mon. I have plans.”

Once they were back at the hotel, they headed up to the rooftop balcony. Platters of wine and cheese had been put out by the hotel for guests to enjoy prior to their evening dining around the city. They found a small, wrought iron table in the corner by a small waterfall and lush flower displays and grabbed some glasses of wine on their way, white for her and red for him. Once the table was secure, Jughead doubled back to fill some plates with various cheeses and crackers to snack on.

“Jughead Jones planning a wine and cheese hour?” Betty grinned. “What happened to my ‘Kraft Singles are just as good’ best friend? Or did Veronica organize this part?”

“Well, first of all, this was all me. Though don’t tell her, but Veronica's chronic need for cheese boards has been rubbing off on me. As for planning this, you kind of bring out the romantic in me, Betts. And I swear I will deny it if anyone ever asks, but it’s true.”

“You love me,” Betty teased him sweetly. “And you love fancy cheese. You’re way more New York hipster than you let on.”

“I knew this would backfire on me,” he sighed before laughing along with her.

They sampled the drinks and snacks for the next hour, enjoying the breeze, the trickling water from the fountain behind them buzzing out the rest of the patrons nearby, before heading back to the room to freshen up for dinner.

Jughead changed into a button-down shirt and Betty grabbed a sweater to pop over her dress in case the air conditioning proved to be too much before heading out into the streets again.

Veronica had booked their dinner reservation for the evening at a well sought after restaurant in the city. Jughead had looked it up immediately, pleased to find that trendy here was not like trendy New York. The restaurant was quaint and exuded charm. The tables were plain wooden slabs decorated with mason jars of peonies and the menu hosted fresh local catches and other clean dishes.

Betty ordered the Parmesan-crusted market catch while Jughead opted for the buttermilk fried chicken. They had purposely skipped appetizers to save room for dessert; a warm cream cheese brownie with fudge sauce and southern pecan pie with bourbon caramel. They split the desserts to try them both, feeding each other bites from their plates like lovestruck teenagers kissing off bits of stray fudge or caramel that stuck to the corner of their lips.

The air was cooler after dinner and Betty slipped her sweater on, Jughead wrapping an arm over her shoulder. Guiding her down the street, they couldn’t help but be entranced by the whimsical nature of the city; the horse and carriages clip-clopping in the night, and flickers of the street lamps, and the romantic setting embedding itself into them quickly. Was it possible to fall in love with a place after only a few hours?

The next destination on the agenda was The Cocktail Club, a speak-easy type bar with live music and a modern, yet rustic, setting. Jughead confessed that Veronica had also found the bar and was on cloud nine when he discovered a cold brew cocktail. Betty opted for a refreshing citrus cocktail instead.

They sipped their drinks and talked of nothing of consequence, enjoying the music and ambiance. As she finished her cocktail, a deep, sultry voice of a woman filled the room, crooning a slow tune over the microphone.

_ I say I'll move the mountains _

_ And I'll move the mountains _

_ If he wants them out of the way _

_ Crazy, he calls me _

_ Sure I'm crazy _

_ Crazy in love, I'd say. _

Standing, he extended his hand with a wry smile and a small tilt of his head, beckoning her to join him on the dance floor. Sliding a hand over her hip and to her lower back Jughead pulled her close, Betty resting her head against his shoulder, nose turned into his neck.

_ I say I'll care forever _

_ And I mean forever _

_ If I have to hold up the sky _

_ Crazy, he calls me _

_ Sure I'm crazy _

_ Crazy in love am I. _

Her hands slipped up over his chest and around his neck, pulling herself closer as his face dipped down lower, his nose now brushing against her neck as they softly swayed. Betty was grateful for the slow notes of the song, prolonging the moment. 

They broke away softly as the song ended and their moment was shattered by the applause of the crowd. 

With a slight clear of his throat, Jughead slid his palms back to her hips from her lower back. “Do you want another drink?”

Betty smiled, barely there, as Mona Lisa as physically possible. “Take me home, Jug.”

As they headed back to the hotel, Betty found another wrought iron gate, this time with scrolls curled into the shape of a heart. She tugged Jughead close into a selfie to upload to her Instagram, the swirly heart behind them, captioning it with #inlovewithCharleston #andthisguytoo. Her friends liked it only seconds later.

Nodding at the concierge desk, they headed up to their room, managing to behave like perfect adults by keeping their hands to themselves as they shared an elevator with another couple.

Once inside, Betty rummaged through her drawers, her eyes meeting his through the dresser mirror. “I’m just going to change and whatnot, okay?”

“Yeah,” he managed, voice thick and calm. “Betts, we don’t have to do anything, you know. I don’t expect-”

“I want to, Jug. I really do.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his collared shirt.

“Do you want to wait for tomorrow? I may have some more romantic things planned for then,” he suggested, nervous and swallowing hard.

Betty shook her head sweetly and grazed his lips with her own before taking her small bag and heading into the bathroom.

He lay back and waited, grabbing a book he had been reading from his bag. Judging by what she had carried into the bathroom, he figured she was attempting to prep herself solo this time, claiming it was starting to feel a bit clinical and unsexy to start off together that way during their last few encounters. 

About twenty minutes later, she emerged, clicking off the bathroom light, a black nightie taking the place of her sundress and sweater from earlier and slid herself into the other side of the bed. Closing his book he turned to face her.

“You look beautiful,” he said reassuringly. “And no matter what happens tonight, Betty, I already had a great day with you and I love you.”

Betty bit her lip and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Jug, just so you aren’t… expecting things, my physical therapist said that even if we manage to be successful, which she thinks we should be, that my body might not be able to experience pleasure from penetration for a while. She said I’ve been so conditioned to expect pain that it may take time to transition. So don’t… don’t be upset.”

Turning forward more, he could see the nerves coursing through her, but also confidence there, too. One he hadn’t seen in a while. “You know, there is more than one way to skin a cat,” he grinned, fingering the black satin she wore. “This is nice.”

She arched an eyebrow in him, almost as a dare, and urged him to make the first move. Lowering his body half over hers, he kissed her agonizingly slow. It was intoxicating to Betty and delicious. She could tell this would be a slow seduction, making her blood boil and her body burn.

His hands slid up the silky material of her nightgown to draw small circles on her hips as he rolled to his side, pulling her with him. He kissed her for what seemed like ages, fingertips skimming up her sides, down her arms, and across her neck. 

She was not an idle participant. With nimble fingers, Betty had finished unbuttoning his shirt and had shrugged it off his shoulders, her hands now exploring the expanse of his chest and teasing the twitchy muscles of his stomach. She felt different this time around; she wasn’t sure if it was false hope or determination, but she prayed she wasn’t wrong.

The gruff metal of his belt buckle dug into her thigh where she had thrown a leg over his own. She began to unfasten the clip when his hands stilled hers. “Slow,” he urged.

“Your buckle,” Betty explained simply and he smiled helping her to rid him of the clunky metal and shrugged down to his boxers in the process. When his attention returned to her, he carefully slipped the straps of her nightgown down her shoulders, tracing their path with his lips, pressing more firmly when she arched towards him, seeking more contact.

Things passed in a blur then, clothes were shed and every inch of skin they exposed was explored before he finally settled where she was aching for him to reach. With the knowledge that came from their previous encounters, he prepared her as best as he could, pushing her over the edge twice with nimble fingers and a quick tongue to ensure she was as ready as possible before sliding back up her body to kiss her again.

She had never felt so properly loved and her heart twinged for him. She wanted him. She wanted everything with him.

When their kiss broke, she stroked the side of his face. “Slowly, okay?”

He nodded, unable to speak and waited for her to decide their positioning. Betty wiggled down under him, her head elevated slightly on a pillow before reaching for him. She smiled at his nerves. As he hovered over her his arms were shaking. She wasn’t sure if it was from trying too hard to control his desire or because he was as nervous as she was.

“You’re shaking,” she teased lightly, rubbing her hand across his cheek. “That’s supposed to be my MO.”

“This is big for you. For us. I just want to get it right,” he confided.

Betty pulled him further into the cradle of her hips. “It’s already right, Jug, because it’s us. Just… slow. And give me a minute or two to adjust. I know it won’t be easy for you…”

“I can handle it,” he reassured her, laying forward more to rest his forehead on hers. “Ready?”

She nodded against him and he steeled himself with a deep breath. Shifting ever so slightly, he nudged forward, pressing in just the slightest bit before stopping. Betty hissed first a moment, still having trouble with the initial entry, but nodded against his forehead for him to continue after a moment. 

The feeling for her was intense. She had been through her dilator kit, but nothing could prepare her for the actual intimacy she felt as another human being, Jughead, her best friend, slowly connected with her, jaw tight and breathing shallow as he worked to control his entry speed. Every inch or so he let her readjust until finally, he could move no more.

Betty pulled her forehead from his to find his eyes. They were focused intensely in concentration and awe. She wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she wasn’t uncomfortable either. It was a strange sensation, maybe laced with a tinge of pain at first.

“You’re inside me,” Betty said with thick emotion, a few happy tears wetting her green orbs.

He echoed her sentiment, pressing a quick kiss to her nose. “I’m inside you.”

His movements were slow and torturous. He never pulled all the way out to avoid the discomfort that the initial entry caused her, their bodies pressed closely together, eyes locked on one another.

Betty watched him grit his teeth as he tried to last at the tenuous pace.

“You can move more, Jug. I’m okay. I promise.”

He reached down between them, his intention to help her along so they could finish together, but she tugged his arm back up and shook her head.

“This is enough for me,” she whispered, already overwhelmed. “You took care of me… twice. Your turn, Juggie.”

Crashing his lips down on hers, Betty held him tightly as he found his release, keeping their bodies close for as long as she could while he peppered kisses across her face and words of praise.

“...so proud of you…” Peck. “.... that was unbelievable…” Peck. “... so beautiful…” Peck.

She didn’t know when it happened, but a walled up dam of years worth of self-doubt, depreciated self-worth, and complete and utter loneliness crashed down around her at the intimacy of the moment and she began to cry, long cathartic tears that shook her body and washed things clean, all the while he cooed soft promises into her ear, her neck, her hair.

Betty felt liberated. She felt free. And finally, she  _ finally  _ felt like a woman. She knew it was frowned on to dim herself down to sex, but it was such an innate instinct she had battled for so long. She felt accomplished - empowered even. Her years of anxiety and work finally paid off. 

But above all else, she felt loved. She couldn’t imagine anyone else at that moment ever being able to fill the void in her chest the way he had over these past months, loving her and helping her without question or self-interest. She knew in her heart that she’d do anything for this man.

After a long while, her tears stopped and he settled for playing with her hair while she lay against his chest, allowing her time to calm down and digest the well of feelings that had overflowed only a while earlier.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, wiping one last stray streak from her cheekbone.

“More than okay, Jug. I never thought- That was more perfect than I could have imagined. Thank you.”

With another peck to her nose, he scooted off the bed, promising to be right back. He returned moments later with a cool washcloth to clean her up and help with any residual discomfort.

Shrugging at her questioning glance, he smiled self-consciously. “I was afraid you’d be sore and I read that the cold could help with swelling…”

If her heart swelled any more it would burst. They lay in bed just kissing and grinning like idiots for a long while, whispering words of love and promises of what was to come, before finally falling asleep blanketed against each other. 

**February 14th**

**Charleston, South Carolina**

They awoke the next morning to the fresh smell of pastries and coffee wafting down the hotel hallway. Wrapped up in a sheet and each other, Jughead kissed her shoulder lightly and coaxed her to turn over to face him.

“Hi.” He smiled, cheesily, a goofy grin on his face.

“Hi,” she whispered shyly, pulling the sheet up higher over them and snuggling into his chest.

He chuckled down at her, kissing the crown of blonde hair there. “Are you feeling shy this morning?”

“A little?” she said, more of an unsure question than a statement. “This is my first ‘morning after’ after all.”

Jughead rolled his hips and shifted her onto her back, pulling the sheet down to their waists to expose their bare skin.

“Betts, I’ve been to therapy with you, physical therapy, a masochistic lady doctor, and you’re finally shy because we made love?”

She shrugged, reaching up to kiss him. “Sounds silly when you say it.”

His eyes traveled down her body as his palms skirted from her neck, down to her stomach. “Besides, you have  _ nothing  _ to be shy about.”

“All of the Charleston views out there and the food it has to offer and you want to stay right here in bed?” Betty teased.

Jughead dropped his lips to the juncture of her throat, nipping at her skin there.

“Charleston’s got nothing on you.”

…..

They didn’t venture out into the city for breakfast since the hotel’s complimentary continental breakfast spread drew them from their room an hour later. Grabbing coffees and chocolate croissants, they headed down into the lobby for the first activity of the day.

“Wear sneakers,” was all he told her when she got dressed that morning, so she had tossed a pair of white keds on with some light jeans and a tee.

When they reached the concierge, he gave his name and was handed two small keys.

“Enjoy your outing, Mr. Jones,” the receptionist grinned. Out front of the hotel stood a bike rack with a row of brightly colored bicycles lined up and locked. Holding out the two keys and grinning like a child, he offered a key to Betty, her enthusiasm matching his own.

“The best way to explore the city is by bike,” he promised. “Thankfully we aren’t here in the sticky, humid August air.”

They biked down to The Battery first, hopping off their rides to check out the mansions lining the waterways along Charleston Harbor. Walking their bikes, they took a stroll through White Point Garden, reading the plaques and information about the Civil War relics that were housed there before ending up in Waterfront Park.

Charleston’s iconic pineapple fountain lay sprinkling in front of them, the golden orb gleaming in the sixty-five-degree sun. Finding a nearby bench, Betty rested her head on his shoulder as they watched children run in and out of the fountain, splashing squealing in delight.

Betty began to nudge at his shoulder as she watched him watch the childish antics taking place. He looked enthralled by the ease at which they played, the simple act of splashing about sparking such joy and she wanted nothing more than to see him that light and relaxed.

Leaning up further she pressed kisses to his shoulder and then his neck, his head jerking back to peer down at her curiously. She took that opportunity to kiss him quickly, palming his cheek with her hand.

“You’re enjoying watching them,” she observed, smiling at his boyish nature. “What are you thinking?”

He turned his attention back to the fountain, sliding his hand across his jeans and over onto her knee, giving it a small squeeze.

He bounced his own knee up and down, shaking the bench they were on lightly. “I was thinking that it would be nice to come back here someday and maybe,” he paused to lick his lips. “Maybe sit on this bench and watch our kids splash around in the sun, just happy.”

He didn’t look over at her and twitched his feet against the pavement at her silence. “Too much too soon?” he chuckled self consciously. 

In response, he felt her stand and his stomach bottomed out in his abdomen before he felt a tug at his hand. Glancing up he found her backing away, pulling him off the bench to join her, a radiant smile on her face.

“C’mon you big kid,” she grinned. “Let’s get a preview of what our kids may feel like.”

They ran through the water, splashing and shrieking at each other, giggling more so than the children that surrounded them. Jughead tried to catch her at one point, turning and launching for her waist, only to slip on stone and fall into the deeper water under the showering pineapple as Betty and the kids looked on and laughed. With her blonde hair soaked and sticking to her face, Betty laughed, loud and juvenile, before offering him her hand, missing the crinkle in his eye and mischievous intentions before he yanked her down and into the water with him.

After catching their breath, they emerged from the water, grateful for the sun, but now chilled in the warm air. Jughead jogged over time a nearby tourist shop, paying more than needed for two Charleston printed towels and they dried off in a patch of grass, Betty wringing her hair out and wiping at her dripping mascara.

“That towel was twenty-two bucks,” he teased. “Your mascara is adding extra lines to the road map there.”

“It’s washable,” she teased back.

When they were dry enough to venture on, they wrapped the towels around their shoulders and took to their bikes again, stopping to explore and photograph the colorful, pastel houses of rainbow row.

It was almost noon when he suggested they break for lunch, returning the bikes to the hotel and walking a few blocks to a barbecue joint, Sticky Fingers. Wanting to recreate one of their first big nights together, he ordered them a basket of fried pickles and pulled pork sandwiches, trying all the various sauces the establishment had to offer.

“Today was amazing, Jug,” Betty sighed as she rubbed her full belly and they strolled past a number of shops along their way back to the city center. “Thank you for the most perfect Valentine’s Day I could imagine.”

“Who says I’m done?” he smirked, linking their arms and refusing to say more on the matter.

“Wow, V really went all out with excursions, huh?” Betty teased and Jughead had the decency to look mock offended.

“Actually,” he grinned cockily. “I planned today. I wasn’t going to let Lodge plan my first Valentine’s Day with you. She did plan the next two days though with visits to Boone Hall Plantation, kayaking, a ghost tour and food and beer tour.”

Betty stopped by a storefront window, gazing inside at the handmade leatherware, filing the name away, before turning to examine his face curiously. 

“I never pegged you for a Valentine guy, Jug,” she shared. “I always thought you’d be anti greeting card company created, money-generating holidays.”

He tugged her along, back down the flower-lined street. “To be honest, I’ve never partaken in Valentine festivities with anyone before. But you’re not just anyone. You, Betty Cooper, are the love of my life and you  _ do _ like Valentine’s Day and I’d imagine it was hard all those years, watching your friends gush about flowers and romance while you isolated yourself.”

He stopped them in their tracks, pulling Betty flush against him, holding both her hands between their bodies. “I’m not an angsty little teenage shit anymore, Betty. I’ve grown up and I may have been a bit unreasonable and cynical in high school, even college, about all this stuff. But I’m over the fact that I was handed a raw deal early on. I make my own future and my past doesn’t dictate that. And you, well,  _ you  _ play a large role in that future, Betts.”

Betty’s expression was gentle and awestruck. She had loved him, that much had been true for a long time, but the act of actually loving him, openly and whole, and him returning that affection, was an all-encompassing new experience she hadn’t been prepared for. It was overwhelming and beautiful. She shook her head, unable to speak what she was feeling, and so she kissed him instead.

Right there on a Charleston street corner, she backed him into a lush, floral-scented flower box and kissed him as if he had somehow stashed the last bit of oxygen left on the planet in his lungs and she was desperate to extract it.

He felt it too, her meaning and her need, and reciprocated that completely, his fingers in her hair, her fingers crumbling and wrinkling the ends of his t-shirt. A bicycle bell and some giggling teenagers broke the spell, the slight jingle of their bells next to their baskets pulling them from the moment.

“Charleston is for lovers!” one of the boys called out as all their friends giggled and rode away, leaving a breathless Betty with her head against his chest, blushing a bit self-consciously at her uncharacteristic foray into PDA.

“Wow,” he grunted out, clearing his throat. “Remind me to tell you how much you mean to me all the time.”

Betty arched an eyebrow at him and bit on her lower lip, an action she knew drove him crazy. “You won’t have to remind me, Jug. I’ll remember tonight. And while I may be particularly full now, I have a feeling I’ll be very  _ hungry  _ later.”

Satisfied with the implications, Betty turned and continued down the street. It took Jughead a moment longer to process what she was saying and by the time her meaning dawned on him, he was jogging lightly down the street to catch up to her stride.

…..

The afternoon surprise was a historic carriage tour of the city. They clip-clipped through the historic district as the driver regaled them with tales of gore and local history.

“Do you see the houses that have hearts on their shutters?” he pointed out as they passed a mint green colored home with pink shutters attached. “The hearts used to signal that the house was actually a brothel. It doesn’t anymore… I don’t think,” he added with a wink.

Jughead leaned over, his arm draped over Betty’s shoulder to whisper in her ear. “Let’s push that design aesthetic on Cheryl and not tell her what it signifies until  _ after _ she’s built the house.”

Betty slapped around him playfully. “You’re so bad, Jug. You love to push her buttons.”

“... but it’s  _ so _ easy, Betty.”

The driver continued to talk as they peruse the city, pointing out landmarks and providing general historical facts.

“Charleston actually has the oldest historic district in the country as we were officially founded in 1670,” he shared as they passed an old graveyard. “We’re also said to have some of the most haunting as in the country as well since we have such an old, and bloody, history. Charles Towne actually has the only walled English city during the eighteenth century. We also boast the first Chamber of Commerce and we’re home to four singers of the Declaration of Independence and the first shots of the Civil War were fired here in Charleston Harbor.”

The carriage passed by an old stone building and the driver slowed to a stop.

“This is the old exchange and provost dungeon. You can take a guided tour if you’re so inclined. I recommend the nighttime pirate tour instead. The dungeons are the best part. It’s now by Owned by the South Carolina Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution and they offer tales of pirates and patriots to keep you enthralled.”

“That could be fun,” Betty whispered. “I could see you enjoying tales of swashbuckling and mayhem.”

“Mayhem is my jam,” he grinned back as the carriage clicked on before slowing in front of a church.

“Over here we have St, Michael’s Church. The cornerstone was laid in 1752 and little has been changed since to the structure. George Washington attended church here and sat in one of the pews still in existence today called The Governor’s Pew.”

The ride continued much the same and they found the scenery better than anything else. There were a few spots they catalogued to come back and snap some photos if they got the chance later in the evening or the following day. When the carriage ride ended, he suggested they head back to the hotel for a nap and maybe a soak in the tub, explaining that dinner was at seven and he was planning to dress to impress.

…..

Dinner was at a place that Veronica had recommended called Zero Restaurant. She had called in a favor for him to reserve one of the very few outdoor courtyard tables at the romantic venue and had even scored him an adorable deal on their normally exorbitant pre-fixe menu. 

He had worn black pants and a deep blue button-down shirt, bringing a jacket to throw on just in case he needed it. Veronica had been clear there was a dress code, but he wasn’t putting the penguin coat on unless he absolutely had to.

Betty had emerged from the bathroom, hair down and softly curled around her face, a simple black, strapless dress that was form-fitted and reached mid-thigh, If it made his heart stop and his breath to catch in his throat, he wasn’t complaining.

“You look… beautiful,” he said, clearing his throat. “We better go before I make us miss our reservation.”

Betty slipped by him, making sure to brush up against him as she sauntered to the door, her fingers trailing along his collar, a mischievous glint in her eye before heading out into the hall.

“One night and she’s already siren,” he mumbled to himself, loosening his collar before ducking out after her.

Dinner was the epitome of what he deemed typical romance and Jughead was surprised and slightly disturbed, to find that he was eating out of the palm of Cupid’s hand. The intimate setting in the courtyard coupled with the old world lamp lighting, lush greenery and florals, not to mention his girlfriend’s dress, left him feeling warm and content. 

The restaurant placed their chairs adjacent to each other as opposed to across the table and he found himself unable to stop touching her exposed shoulders and knees. Betty was chilly in the winter air. The temperature had dropped a bit since earlier in the day, not cold but also not as pleasant, but she couldn’t bring herself to put on her sweater. His fingertips were fire and she loved the way he touched her. 

They ate their way through multiple courses, sampling all the chef had to offer from their private porch, sneaking kisses behind hanging ivy in between plates.

“Your plates?” their waiter appeared suddenly from behind Jughead, causing him to jump and knock his knee on the tabletop, Betty giggling at his awkward fumble. The waiter remained unblinking and took the clear plates with the promise to return shortly with the next dish. Betty took the opportunity of his absence to begin kissing Jughead again.

“How is it possible that I’ve only had you once and I already want you again so badly,” Betty sang breathlessly against his lips after their course of lobster rolls was cleared. “I swear it’s like you awakened something in me, Jug.”

She kissed him again, feeling hazy from the wine and the euphoria of the evening, quick and daring for their semi-secluded yet public location. 

“Horny Betty is confident,” he teased, sliding his hand up her thigh and to her hip, not trusting himself to remain against her bare skin. “It’s a real turn-on.”

“Yeah?” she asked intrigued, her eyes sparkling, partially from the candlelight and partially from desire.

He nodded, leaning down to kiss her shoulder closest to him humming against her skin. “When we first got together you were always worried about how I was and if things were okay and if you were enough,” he explained, punctuating each declaration with a nip to her skin. “It’s hot to see you comfortable in your own skin. Comfortable with yourself and seeing you the way I do. The way I always have.”

“Fuck,” Betty cussed out. “Seriously, Jug, you can't say stuff like that and kiss me. Why, for the love of everything holy, are there so many courses in this meal?”

“Veronica,” he apologized. “It is really delicious, but I can think of other things I wouldn’t mind eating right about now.”

She kissed him hungrily, urgent and went before a throat clearing behind them left her pulling back, red as a tomato. 

“Your next course,” the waiter explained, laying the plates down, seemingly unshaded by their public display.

They both began to laugh when he disappeared behind the trees again, discussing the possibility that he was one of Charleston’s famous ghosts based on how he would appear and disappear so suddenly throughout the night.

The decadent yet overindulgent dinner took over three and a half hours. Jughead had let on that his original plans involved drinks, but if it was alright with Betty, he’d like to forgo those plans and head back to the room instead.

He didn’t have to wait for an answer. She took him by the hand and dragged him out the iron gates and back towards their lodging.

Earlier, while he had napped, Betty had snuck into the hall to make arrangements for later in the evening, not anticipating how much they would eat or how long dinner would be. She had ordered champagne and chocolate mousse to be delivered to the room knowing the way to his heart was through his stomach. When they entered the rotating doors, she paused at the desk to tell them to send the treat up, figuring he’d eat it at some point in the night.

They were barely in the room five minutes when the knock sounded at the door. When they opened the door, a cart with flowers, champagne and mousse was situated outside. Jughead glanced back and forth at her curiously.

“I ordered it earlier not expecting to be home so soon,” Betty explained, moving to sit on the bed. “You literally planned an entire trip without my knowledge so I wanted to do something for you.” 

Another wrapped package sat on the tray as well. One that she had delivered earlier in the day to the front desk.

“What’s this?” he asked, picking up the box.

“Just a little something I saw in a shop window and couldn’t help but get for you,” she smiled excitedly. “Open it.”

He pulled at the brown paper wrapped with twine and examined the buttery, leather-wrapped book before him.

“It’s a refillable writer’s log,” Betty gushed excitedly. “I know you like handwriting out research facts for your books and you read and look for information. I figured you could use a nice one now that you’re a fancy, published author and could refill it to start over for each novel you research.”

He ran his fingers over the soft hide, quietly feeling the smooth features and fingering the tie that held it closed.

Betty bounced nervously, waiting for a response and reaction from him. “There’s a pen, too,” she breathed out after a moment to break the silence. “It’s a rollerball one but they used brushed antique copper to age it.”

Placing the items back down in the box, Jughead stalked his way over to the bed, his mouth anchoring against hers fiercely, pressing her body back into the bed while his large frame covered hers completely. She was barely able to process what was happening before his tongue was in her mouth, his kisses decidedly unvirginal, his hand sliding up her thigh and under her dress, gripping her hips to hold her in place.

Betty relaxed into the kiss, wrapping her fingers into the tiny wisps of hair at the back of his neck and canting her hips up towards his own. Just as suddenly as his onslaught began, Jughead pulled back with a growl. “Do you want to prep on your own or together?” he asked gruffly.

Betty looked up at his dark eyes and shivered at the want and need she saw there. “I’ll do it. Bathroom.”

He backed off the bed slowly and pulled her up to a standing position, still cradling her against him. “Okay. Why don’t you do that because if I kiss you again I’m not sure if I can stop.”

When Betty went into the bathroom, he sprang into action, taking dozens of tiny, battery-operated candles from his bag to set all over the room before turning the lamps down. He knew real ones would be more romantic, but they were harder to travel with and he didn’t honestly want to burn down an entire hotel in a miss-stepped moment of passion. He had just finished his handy work and had taken off his button-down shirt and slacks when Betty re-emerged, now clad in a pale pink negligee. 

“Wow,” she smiled, looking around the room.

“Wow,” he mimicked, looking at her.

In the blink of an eye, she was across the room and they were no longer vertical. Jughead found himself flopped down on the bed, Betty astride him, sucking all of the air from his lungs as her arm stretched out to the side, reaching for something she couldn’t quite grasp. Breaking their kiss she sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed, grabbing the bowl of chocolate mousse and the spoon before turning back to him impishly.

“We shouldn’t let something so yummy go to waste,” she smirked, spooning out a glob and sliding the spoon down his chest, smearing the chocolate as she went. His stomach muscles contracted at the cold sensation of the metal and dessert, but the cold was quickly replaced by warmth as her tongue replaced the spoon and she began to clean up her mess. Betty took her time, making sure to nip at the slight definition that his part-time construction work and blessed metabolism afforded him.

“I wish I made you walk around shirtless the whole time we were roommates,” Betty said before she cleaned the last bit off his chest. 

Jughead reached up and slid the thin straps off her shoulders, the nightie pooling at her waist. “Likewise,” he muttered before flipping them over and pushing her slip the rest of the way down her hips, shimmying it off her completely. “Are you sharing dessert?”

Nodding, Betty braced herself as he scooped out a generous amount of the chocolate onto his fingers before dragging them down her body starting at her collarbone before tracing the path with his tongue, lapping up the rich chocolate. When he reached the last spot at her bellybutton, he didn’t stop nipping his way down further before tossing one leg over his shoulder.

“Mousse was good,” he teased. “This will be better.”

One arm anchored her squirming hips to the bed as his mouth assaulted her, bringing her to the brink again and again before backing off each time until she was incoherently pleading with him, fingers fisting the sheets. Only when she looked thoroughly destroyed did he relent, allowing her to let go.

She shoved at his shoulder immediately after, pressing him down into the mattress and climbing over him.

“Can we try this way?” she asked breathlessly.

Jughead nodded enthusiastically. “Please. I’ve thought about this for like… longer than I even want to admit.”

“Why?” Betty chuckled, swinging her leg over his hips and grinding down against him. “Why do guys always dream about the girl on top?”

“It’s all about the view, babe,” he painted out, as she ground down against him again, gritting his teeth and dragging his eyes down her body to where their hips collided.

Betty rose up just a bit and positioned him carefully, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before ever so slowly sinking down onto him inch by inch, exhaling at the initial burn and remembering to breathe and unclench her muscles. She needed a minute afterwards, this position allowing things deeper than the night before. 

Jughead, to his credit, resisted the urge to move his hips and instead gripped at her tightly. Finally, she began to move, lifting and rocking, aided by his firm grip, her desire only spurred on by his eyes affixed to where their bodies met before dragging their way up her body to her own.

“You can move if you want, Juggie,” she panted out sensing his tension, only at her word allowing himself to rock up and meet her motions. He dropped one hand between them to help her along and before she knew it they were falling over the edge, her first and him only moments after.

As they lay blanketed afterwards, Betty stroked at his chest and smiled.

“You know, I had texts from V, Cheryl, and Toni today asking how things went last night,” she smiled. “But I didn’t answer any of them so they just kept texting all day. I swear I have 23 just from Veronica alone.”

“Why didn’t you answer?” he asked, playing with the still sweaty tendrils of her hair that brushed his skin. “Was it… okay? I mean, it seemed okay…”

She shot up quickly shaking her head. “Jug, no! It was- perfect. It was beautiful. But it was ours. I didn’t want to share it with anyone. When we get back to the city I’m sure they will drag it out of me, but for now, this is just for us.”

He kissed her, full and open-mouthed before pulling her back down to his chest.

“Let’s never go back,” he sighed happily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They did it yay! It took them almost a year, and about 4 years of work for Betty, but it happened! I know people who have been “cured” in a few months, or those with long term primary who are still working ten years later or more. It’s a very wide ranging condition and there isn’t one “fix” that works for everyone. Plenty of people will never be cured. Thanks for sticking with Betty along the way and rooting for her!


	11. The Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life happens, as it normally does, for a group of friends.
> 
> Thanks to @jandjsalmon for editing!
> 
> Chat with me about writing/fic/issues on Tumblr @likemereckless

**Saturday, March 10th**

**Bar Red**

The girls had texted her incessantly since she arrived home from Charleston. Veronica had repeatedly reminded her that they did not like being ignored, to which Betty’s response was to ignore them further. Only after she was home for seventy-two hours did she finally answer them.

BC: Home. Charleston was amazing.

VL: Charleston is  _ always _ amazing. That’s not what we asked.

BC: Food was good, too.

TT: Cooper! You’re killing us!

BC: Fine! V-card officially extinct. Happy now?

CB: I’m so happy I could cry… but I won’t ruin my makeup just because Jones popped your cherry.

BC: Well, now you all know. End of subject.

VL: Awww, that’s cute, B. This discussion is just beginning.

BC: Laundry calls! Must go. Talk sometime!

CB: You owe us details! You will regret this cousin! I promise you!

  
  


Cheryl had insisted the girls grab dinner and cocktails after a few missed brunch weekends. With Veronica feeling less exhausted, Betty assumed it was to discuss wedding plans. Cheryl had deemed Betty and Veronica co-maids of honor while Toni had chosen Jughead as her man-of-honor. While Cheryl hadn’t been happy with his title at first, she did love how much her mother despised the idea.

She got to the restaurant at eight sharp just as Cheryl had directed, letting the hostess know she arrived. Immediately, she was directed back to a private curtained-off booth where she found her friends, all decked out in red, grinning from ear to ear.

“Surprise!” they yelled, tossing some confetti at her from their spots around the table.

Spitting out and swatting away the offending papers, Betty looked at them like they grew five heads. “It’s not my birthday…”

“Oh no, dear cousin,” Cheryl grinned in the sweet yet devious way that only Cheryl could. “This is your, ‘Betty Cooper finally popped her cherry’ party. As I promised  _ months _ ago when you first told us of your tense nether regions.”

It was only then that Betty realized the confetti, still stuck in her hair and top, were in fact penis-shaped, as were the drinking straws in Cheryl and Toni’s drinks and Veronica’s ginger-ale.

“Seriously?” Betty groaned, flushing red. “I can’t- You guys just…”

“We just love you,” Veronica said, gripping her arm and yanking her into the booth. “And we love sordid details. Details you did not provide us earlier. So now, you suffer through dinner and an endless barrage of questions.”

Toni shrugged at Betty and wrinkled up her nose a bit. “I suggest you play along. There may or may not be a light-up penis necklace in someone’s purse that I convinced them not to pull-out unless necessary.”

Their waiter reappeared, placing a drink in front of Betty that matched Cheryl and Toni’s. A drink she knew she didn’t order.

“Cherry Old Fashioned,” Cheryl beamed. “Matches the theme of the evening.”

Betty sighed and downed half the liquor at once, coughing a bit as it burned down her throat.

“Fine,” she conceded. “What is it you want to know?”

“How did it happen?” Toni asked.

“Was it romantic?” Veronica chimed in. “I bet it was romantic.”

“Was it any good? I’ve wondered if that vagabond wordsmith of yours would even  _ know _ what to do when the time came.”

Betty took another large sip of her drink and prayed they had already ordered some appetizers because she was starving and the drink was strong.

“If I just tell you everything, can we drop all the penis propaganda and have a nice girls’ dinner?”

“Yes!” her friends all replied heartily.

Betty paused for a moment, grabbing a breadstick from the basket and nibbling on it a bit to absorb the liquor sloshing around in her stomach.

“It was… perfect,” she finally said, smiling shyly. “We spent the whole trip just exploring, riding bikes and touring the city. Jug actually planned time for a wine and cheese hour on the rooftop and everything was just so… relaxing. I think I owe some thanks to you for that, V.”

Veronica put a hand to her chest and beamed. “I planned a little, but your beau knew what he wanted and despite my initial rule for him to stay out of plans, he did hijack a few details.”

“The first night we had this amazing dinner and danced a bit at a jazz place. After he took me home and…”

Betty trailed off and left their friends to their imaginations.

“And?” Cheryl squeaked out. “You don’t get off that easy!”

Betty rolled her eyes and continued. “And he was sweet. He was really gentle and so nervous it was actually adorable. It hurt a little, but I think the normal amount- not  _ my  _ normal amount. I definitely cried afterwards… like a baby but not because it hurt. I was just  _ so  _ relieved and overwhelmed. It’s an intense feeling.”

Veronica strung an arm around her shoulders. “It can be intense, B. Especially for you and how monumental it was.”

Now that she was talking, she was enjoying sharing. She had planned on telling them anyway, but it was fun watching them stew while they waited.

“He was such a big kid all weekend, too. We wound up playing in the fountains and he got all gooey talking about our future kids. I swear I would have made a baby on the spot if he had asked.”

“Well, Cousin Betty,” Cheryl said, raising her glass. “We are proud of you and happy for you. We tease because we love you. To you, for knocking boots and bumping uglies with your broody boy-toy.”

Betty offered cheers to that and to her friends. She was lucky to have them, as dirty and nosy as they were.

  
  
  


**Saturday, April 12th**

**Betty & Jughead's Apartment**

“Remind me why we got a present this big?” Jughead grunted as they turned over the giant box to try and wrap it carefully.

“You were with me, Jug,” Betty huffed as she rolled the blue wrapping around the other side of the massive package. “Your exact words were, “It’s got to be the best for our godchild.”

“I said ‘best’,” he reiterated. “Not the biggest.”

Ripping some tape with her teeth, Betty arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh, please. One look at the cute elephant mobile on this travel sleeper and you were like a big puddle of goo in that baby store. You’re such a softy, Jug.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” he said in his best dude-bro imitation, helping her secure the last bit of paper to the package.

In all fairness to him, that was definitely  _ not  _ what she said last night in an unplanned moment of passion on their kitchen counter. 

Unplanned. The word resonated so strongly throughout her being. Unplanned. She’d been eating a popsicle when he came in from the store, wearing just her favorite t-shirt of his, and found herself on the cold countertop before she knew what hit her. There had been no discussion, no dilating, and no soft whispers of, ‘Are you alright?’ uttered at all. It was just sex and it was the best thing she had ever felt. The act itself alone still wasn’t completely pleasurable for her, though it was beginning to feel different the more they engaged. The spontaneity helped tenfold.

“You’re thinking about last night. Aren’t you?” he smirked, smug at her smirk back.

“Yes, I am actually. Happy?” she teased standing up and sliding the scissors and tape back into their junk drawer.

“I mean, yeah? If you’re thinking about it that means I did something right,” he reasoned. “We could go for a repeat now if-”

“Oh no, Jones,” Betty barked. “I see your nefarious plan. You are not getting out of this whole affair any more than I am. Plus, I already have enough bruises on my hips that I’ll have to explain at the spa today.”

“But, Betty,” he whined. “It’s an all-day, co-ed baby shower that begins in a spa. A  _ spa _ , Betty. The closest I’ve ever been to a spa is when I lean my face over pasta water to scoop out noodles and it feels exfoliated. Now I have to sit in a steam room with Archie and Hiram sweating my ass off. Who hosts an all-day baby shower with a spa day and then dinner?”

Betty did feel a bit bad for him. While she was looking forward to a day being pampered, it would no doubt be more awkward for Jughead who  _ had _ to attend as the godfather but didn’t really know anyone that well. 

“The Lodges do, Jug. You know they never do  _ anything _ in typical fashion and V wanted a girls spa day to ease her aching back and a co-ed shower since she feels Archie should celebrate the baby, too. We should go or we’ll be late. I’ll get our bags if you get the gift.”

Lifting the gigantic package, Jughead bumped into the counter, the door jam, and the wall carrying it into the hallway. It was going to be a long day. The things he did for Archie Andrews.

…..

**Oak Day Spa**

**Upper East Side**

He couldn’t fathom how people found this relaxing. Aside from the towel, he was naked, sitting on a hard wooden bench, in a hard-to-breathe hot room with a bunch of sweaty men. Archie and Hiram looked relaxed and content while Jughead was contemplating how much oxygen his lungs were actually getting.

“You wax your chest, Jug?” Archie asked, eyeing his friend questionably.

“Come again?” Jughead asked, hoping he misheard him.

“Do you wax your chest? Or are you just naturally that smooth?” Archie asked again.

“I definitely do not wax my chest, Arch. The thought has literally never crossed my mind,” Jughead said, confused by the random question.

“I personally go every few weeks,” Hiram spoke up, sighing and inhaling more steam. “Sometimes in the business world you find yourself at these spas or other events and it’s always nice to make a good impression. Well-manicured fingers and clean facial and chest hair can be key.”

Archie seemed to take in his advice very seriously, nodding as if it was golden while Jughead contemplated what type of legitimate business could be based on one’s chest hair and settled in a steam room.

“I started back when I was in the military,” Archie explained. “It helps with swimming and speed and all or at least that’s what some of the guys said.”

“You’ve got a little bit of fluff there, Jones,” Hiram said, leaning over to get a better look. “And you’re a little more defined than you let on. You surprise me.”

Jughead sagged his shoulders forward and pulled his chest inward, avoiding their gaze as Archie and Hiram both leaned in closer to examine him.

“You’re a businessman now, Jughead,” Hiram boasted. “And you have a woman to take care of. A very  _ wonderful _ woman. You should consider taking more pride in your appearance.”

Jughead’s natural instinct was to spit out some ill-intended wit as an insult, but the image of Betty stopped him in his tracks. 

_ Be nice, _ he thought to himself. 

“Thanks, Mr. Lodge. I’ll- er- consider it.”

Jughead reached for a bottle of water he had brought inside with him, hoping to hydrate as the others shriveled. Taking a large sip, Hiram addressed him again.

“So when will you propose, Jughead?”

The water flew from his lips like a geyser as he coughed and thumped on his chest, half the water going down the wrong pipe and the other half turning to steam as it exited his mouth.

“You alright, bro?” Archie inquired, Jughead still coughing lightly into his fist

“I’m good,” he said gruffly, hoping Hiram would drop his questioning.

“I hope soon,” Hiram pressed on. “Betty is a catch and there are many eligible suitors who would be more than happy to take her off your hands.”

“She’s not a trout,” Jughead said incredulously. “She does get a choice in the matter.”

“Of course,” Hiram agreed. “But you don’t want to give her time to  _ consider _ other choices. Do you have plans at all?”

Now Archie looked intrigued as he watched Jughead wrestle internally with himself.

“I do,” he shared. “But I don’t want to say more than that just yet.”

“Good man,” Hiram grinned.

“Holy shit,” Archie smiled. “I can’t  _ wait _ to be your best man.”

Hiram continued nodding and smiling in a manner that left a Jughead uncomfortable. Archie had told Jughead that while he was a bit much, he had also taken him under his wing when Fred passed away and now he seemed to be taking a shining to his future grandson’s godfather as well.

“A grandson coming and a bright future for you,” he spoke. “This calls for celebration.”

He rose from the wooden bench and headed towards the door. “You boys go shower. I’m going to order us some whiskey and book us some actual treatments. I’m feeling generous today.”

Forty-five minutes later Jughead found himself sitting in a recliner chair having been separated from Archie and Hiram, now with a woman named Cindy.

“Listen, Cindy,” he explained. “I don’t actually want any spa treatments so if I can sit here for an hour and read, I’ll tip you extra and say it was amazing.”

A hot towel slapped down across his chest as Cindy rolled up a cart and tray and sat down on her stool next to him.

“Honey, Hiram Lodge will see your pores from a mile away if I don’t do my job,” she explained. “And I  _ need  _ to do my job. That man pays my rent each month, and then some, in tips. So you sit back and let me slather this on your face.”

Sinking back in the chair, Jughead sighed as a thick slather of green goop was dropped on his face and covered in seaweed, something cold and wet placed on each eye. Figuring he had nothing but time, he decided to use his time to organize his thoughts about Betty and his upcoming proposal.

He wanted it to be meaningful. He didn’t want a crowded restaurant or a random park bridge. He was a writer after all and he wanted this moment to tell a story.

He sat for no more than five minutes in silent reflection before he felt a hot sting against his chest and jolted upward, knocking whatever was on his eyes to the floor.

“What is that?” he yelled out as Cindy smeared it on his chest.

“Hot wax?” she snarked back incredulously. “What else would it be?”

“Wax?” he yelped. “Wax? You didn’t say…”

“Well, I figured you knew what you signed up for!”

“I don’t want to be waxed like a sphynx cat! Get it off!” he urged her.

“Well I’m sorry,” she drawled. “But there’s only one way it’s coming off now so you might as well sit back and take a deep breath.”

He thumped back in the chair and ran a frustrated hand through his hair as Cindy applied strips of paper to his chest.

“Brace yourself, emo boy,” Cindy urged him. “This is gonna sting.”

He barely had time to take a breath before he heard the rip of the strips down his chest, silently cursing into his fist.

There were four pulls in all, each one as brutal as the last. Jughead paused to wonder how so many women endured this regularly and more importantly, why?

When his chest was as shiny as a hospital floor, he sucked in a deep breath and leaned his head back, only to whip it back up as Cindy went to undo the knot in the towel at his waist.

“What are you doing?” he asked, shooting upright.

Cindy rolled her eyes, exhausted by his protests. “My job,” she stated, reaching for the knot again. “Mr. Lodge requested The Full Monty.”

“Well I’d like to leave here with my full manhood intact,” Jughead quipped, clinching the towel tightly.

“But Mr. Lodge…”

“Mr. Lodge may tip well, but if you try to take my towel again, I’ll tell him you said I’m more well endowed.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Cindy warned, scowling at him.

“I’ll leave the fish food on my face,” he agreed. “But I can assure you, Mr. Lodge won’t see below my belt.”

…..

Betty had the most luxurious massage she could have imagined and was now soaking in a jacuzzi tub with Cheryl, Toni, and Hermione. Veronica, who wasn’t allowed in the hot water, lay on a lounge chair next to the tub relaxing after her prenatal treatments.

“V,” Betty gushed. “I hope when I’m pregnant one day I look  _ half _ as good in a bikini as you do.”

“Ugh,” Hermione cried. “I know! When I was pregnant with Veronica I looked like a swamp creature, all bloated and swollen. She looks like a porcelain statue.”

“I’m going to have our babies when the time comes,” Toni smiled. “Cher and I already decided.”

Veronica sat up surprised. “I would have sworn you’d have wanted pure Blossom blood, Cheryl. Where did this come from?”

Cheryl looked serious for a moment. Not her usual stern seriousness, but a definitive, sure kind.

“I jest about being a Blossom, but the truth is we don’t need more Blossom blood in this world.”

Betty scooted through the water and rested her head on her cousin’s shoulder. “Any baby that you and Toni raise would be a good thing Cheryl. Blood is just a body plasma, not a life sentence.”

“Betty’s part-Blossom and she turned out a good egg,” Hermione teased, easing Cheryl’s fears.

“Betty’s gonna make some cute part-Blossom babies one day,” Veronica teased. “Especially since she can’t keep her hands off of Jughead these days.”

Whoops and yells from the girls livened up the quiet spa as Betty blushed. “Veronica…” she trailed off, eyeing Hermione.

“Oh please,” Veronica sighed. “Mommy has heard it all and I want to hear more about your kitchen counter escapades last night.”

Betty was about to protest when the main doors opened and the boys swept in, Jughead finding her face and smiling in relief.

“Is it four already?” Hermione gasped out, shocked. “Time really flew! We better all shower and dress for dinner.”

They would dine in a hall adjacent to the spa. More of Veronica’s co-workers and family would join them for dinner and to shower her and Archie with gifts for the baby.

Climbing from the jetted water, Betty wrapped a towel around her waist and meandered over to Jughead’s side, smiling contentedly at him.

“Why don’t you look as relaxed as I feel, Jug?” Betty teased. “Did a quiet afternoon of soaking and reading not agree with you?”

He grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her off to the side, speaking quickly as he unbuttoned his shirt to showcase his pink chest. “Oh no, that would have been lovely. Instead Hiram Lodge took my chest hair and wrapped my face in fish food.”

Betty looked at his irritated chest and dewy skin and bit back a laugh, trying to be sympathetic. Her instinct won out and she touched his sore chest, the giggles now spilling out like soap from a washer.

“It is  _ not  _ funny, Betty. He even paid Cindy to go all Mr. Miagi below the belt, you know, wax on wax off. But luckily I used my mental karate to stop that travesty.”

“Oh my God, Jug,” she blurted out, still laughing uncontrollably. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m not laughing  _ at  _ you, but try to see this from my point of view.”

It was them Hiram came over and casually examined his opened shirt and face before nodding. “Good pores, Jones,” he said firmly before walking away, leaving Betty in a fit of giggles again and Jughead mumbling about taking ten years to grow those three chest hairs.

The whole party headed toward the locker rooms to shower, Betty’s laughter now tamed and Jughead still ranting by her side.

“The things I do for Archie Andrews,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Just think, you’ll probably do even more for your godchild,” Betty gushed.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I will. Anything except letting Cindy anywhere near my pants.”

…..

**Monday, April 21st**

It had been a year. One whole year since she had broken down and spilled her truth, her struggle, to her longtime best friend and walked away feeling free and in love. 

They had gone to dinner over the weekend to celebrate. They hadn’t gone anywhere fancy. They kept it low key, returning home to head to the bedroom, taking things slowly, this time for the sake of going slow, not out of necessity.

Tonight she had planned to arrive home from work before him, wanting to cook him an official anniversary dinner. While the food simmered, she sat back on the couch, glass of wine in hand, reflecting on how her entire life had changed.

At this point four years ago, she had cried into her pillow, frustrated and alone. Three years prior, she stared at her treatment kit with a complete loathing before turning to her floor-length mirror and thinking the same of herself. Two years ago, she lay there, struggling internally with the desire to go to sleep and pretend everything was fine and the need to continue her treatment, pushing herself to get better. One year ago and she had cried again, but this time not alone. This time she had him and she had walked away with so much more; hope.

So much had changed, but most of all it was her outlook on life and her own self-worth. She had taken something she had thought was broken and made it beautiful again. Sometimes it would rear its ugly head and she’d have a setback, but rather than let it bring her down, she’d square her shoulders, jut out her chin, and defiantly tell her body that she would win.

Her journey had been emotional. There were nights she had celebrated with him and there were nights she turned on her side, angry with the world as tears soaked her pillowcase. She could recall a particular night earlier in the month when after such a good stretch of successes, things had been particularly rough.

They had made multiple attempts one Saturday night, breaking out the dilators and the coconut oil to no avail. She was tense from work and stress and thus her body would simply not relax. Thirty minutes into it, he had flopped down next to her, exhausted and no longer remotely excited.

“Here, let me just-” Betty began, reaching for him.

“No.” he said, stilling her hands. “I’m fine. I think I’m done.”

“Jug, really. I want to. We can’t have sex tonight obviously, but I can still-”

“Betty,” he sighed. “Honestly, I’m good. I don’t think I can.”

“I can at least try,” she cried out.

“I just said I’m good. Can we just cuddle and go to sleep?” he asked exhausted.

He heard the sniffles before he saw the tears.

“Betts…”

“No, I get it. You just wanted sex and I can’t do that tonight apparently.”

He ran a frustrated hand over his face, before barking out, perhaps a bit too forcefully, “Fuck, it has nothing to do with that! I’m just done and I don’t want you to try and get me off out of guilt. It’s fine!”

Betty rolled over angrily, large tears sliding down her nose as he lay in his back staring up at the ceiling.

“You’re right,” she whispered quietly. “I do feel guilty.”

“I know,” he agreed. “And I don’t want you feeling like you  _ have _ to do anything for me out of guilt. Guilt sex doesn’t feel good for either of us.”

Betty rolled over and lay her head on his chest as he stroked her back, knowing he was right.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just feel broken again sometimes when…”

“I know,” he soothed back. 

Now that memory seemed distant. She had learned from it. In moving forward, Betty had to make room not only physically, but emotionally for someone else in her life, sharing scary parts of herself and truths she had never spoken. In the end, she emerged stronger and more confident. She hadn’t done this for him. She had done this with him, but entirely for herself. 

Hearing his key in the lock, she glanced over at the door, smiling as he entered and dropped his bag, eyes automatically drifting from her to the kitchen.

“That smells amazing,” he sighed, sniffing again.

“No, ‘Hello girlfriend, how was your day? Happy anniversary. I love you,'” Betty teased. “Just that smells amazing?”

Jughead made his way over to the couch, dropping down to kiss her hello. “I believe you text me earlier saying your day went well, I said Happy Anniversary in bed this morning… twice” he added with a waggle of his brows. “And you know I love you. But the way to my heart is through my stomach so telling you that smells amazing is  _ the _ biggest compliment I could provide.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, nuzzling into his side. “It’s Chicken Savoy and it will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Go get cozy if you want.”

With a peck to the forehead, Jughead headed into his bedroom to grab a t-shirt and some sweats. They rarely stayed dressed in work clothes, opting to change into comfy old favorites immediately after walking in the door. Dropping his clothes into the hamper, he palmed the envelope he had been hiding, tucked into the back of his pants inconspicuously before heading back out into the living room.

Betty was no longer on the couch, but in the kitchen, stirring a thick, brown sauce over the chicken, a few side dishes already laid out on the table. Placing the envelope by his seat, he cuddled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her body and resting his chin on top of her head.

“This is why I live with you, ya know,” he joked, dipping a finger into the hot pan to sample the sauce before groaning. 

Betty shook her head and smacked him with her spoon. “Good to know why you haven’t moved out yet.”

He took a dish she handed him and helped to finish setting the table. 

“Thank you for cooking all of this,” he offered, his eyes wide at the spread before him, voracious appetite evident. 

“You’re welcome, Jug,” she grinned, pecking him one more time on the lips before sitting down. “I can’t believe an entire year has already flown by. And I can’t believe how much has changed for me, for you, and for us.”

He would have answered her with more than a bob of his head, but his mouth was already full of chicken and roasted potatoes.

Betty rolled her eyes playfully at his gusto. “It’s hard to believe a year ago we were still both in the dark about our feelings and that I had never kissed you. I wasn’t nearly as confident in my own skin then either.”

Jughead swallowed the large bite he had finished chewing before wiping his lips with a napkin. “Not to worry,” he beamed. “I was  _ always  _ confident of you in your skin. I can’t believe a year ago I had never heard that noise you make when my tongue-”

“Jughead!” she yelled out, pointing her fork at him. She wasn't actually mad, but she was blushing. “Always the bedroom with you. Where’s the anniversary romance. Aren’t you supposed to be waxing poetic tonight?”

“Ah, yes,” he concurred, gesturing towards an envelope on the table. “Speaking of romance, I picked up our final itinerary for our upcoming Ireland adventure on my way home.”

Betty’s fork hit her plate like a meteor striking the moon, a loud clang signaling its arrival and leaving a hole in the bed of carrots there. She reached for the envelope excitedly. They had talked about her dream to visit Ireland months ago, and she was ecstatic that Jughead had moved mountains to give her what she wanted. 

“Did you read it?” she asked before lifting the white paper.

Jughead shook his head. “I figured we would look together after dinner. Maybe read it and then talk about all our pit stops in a bath before I ravish you thoroughly. I hear anniversary sex is usually pretty hot.”

He earned himself another eye roll, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she put the envelope down and went back to eating, eagerly awaiting their night ahead.

**Wednesday, June 17th**

**Mount Sinai Hospital**

**New York, New York**

It was 1:46 pm when they got the call that Veronica was in the hospital. She had passed her due date and was completely miserable. Her doctor had decided to induce her since her blood pressure was rising. 

When Archie called frantically, Betty and Jughead had mutually agreed to leave work and head over to Mount Sinai. They found Veronica’s parents along with Archie’s mother seated there and had greeted them with hugs and questions of any news.

Hermione shook her head and sipped her coffee, shoulders tense. “Nothing yet. They did a membrane sweep a few days ago and then gave her Pitocin this morning to try and induce labor. Last we heard from Archie was that the drugs were causing almost constant contractions and the anesthesiologist hadn’t been in yet for an epidural.

While Mary looked sympathetic, Jughead and Hiram looked green around the gills.

“Can we get you guys anything?” Betty asked sweetly. “More coffee or food?”

Hermione and Hiram shook their heads, offering her hand a light squeeze and Mary smiled back. “No thanks, Betty. Maybe later. We are too keyed up with anticipation right now.”

They took seats across the room that were open, settling back in the uncomfortable chairs to wait. Betty almost felt bad complaining about the hard plastic while Veronica was in labor.

“So, how long does this usually take?” Jughead asked, bouncing his leg up and down.

He hated hospitals. He always had. Maybe it was the smell of antiseptic or the thought of all the heartbreak they saw, but he had never been able to relax inside their walls.

“Occasionally, it’s quick. Polly had her twins in five hours from start to finish,” Betty explained. “But some women are in labor for over thirty hours.”

“Thirty hours?” he repeated horrified. “You spend over nine months puking, sore, and hormonal only to have thirty hours of contractions before you… ya know.”

“Oh yeah,” Betty cringed. “I know.”

They sat quiet for the next two hours, Jughead getting up once to grab them coffee, Betty’s head resting on his shoulder otherwise. They watched two happy couples get discharged, carrying tiny bundles like porcelain gold as they exited the maternity ward.

“Do you ever wonder what our kids will look like, Jug?” Betty asked softly from where her head rested, thinking about his declaration back at the fountain in Charleston.

“Hopefully like you,” he grinned, pulling her hand onto his lap and intertwining their fingers. “Your eyes and your smile… maybe my superior sense of humor.”

“Maybe your unruly black hair that is unfairly shiny for a man who doesn’t condition that often,” she teased, smiling into his shoulder.

Jughead chuckled and drummed his thumb back and forth over her knuckles for a while.

“How would all of this work for you? For us?” he asked carefully. “With your condition and all, will it be more difficult? Or will you have to have surgery? Is it better to have a c-section? Because I believe birth is birth. There’s nothing wrong with-”

“Jug,” she laughed softly. “You’re kind of rambling.”

“Sorry,” he grimaced. “Hospitals make me nervous.”

“I’ve done some research on pregnancy,” she admitted. “For many women getting pregnant is half the battle, but we are doing okay in that department.”

He waggled his eyebrows down at her and gave her a quick peck on the lips, ignoring the soft smile Mary Andrews was sending his way at the gesture.

Betty shook her head and rolled her eyes at him before continuing.

“For me, I think the internal ultrasound and cervical checks will be the hardest part, but my doctor is great and really understands this whole condition, unlike some others. I’ll probably have to get through the ultrasound, but I can also probably insert the wand myself like at my appointment and it’s smaller than that instrument so that’s something. I can probably also put off checks until labor and I can ask for an early epidural.”

Jughead sipped at his coffee again, offering Betty a sip as well. When she declined, he put it back on the empty chair next to him and turned back to her.

“I’m not sure what half of what you said means, but it sounds… uncomfortable.”

Betty found herself laughing at him again. “Pregnancy isn’t a tea party, Juggie. As for having the baby, pushing one out is different from something going inside. Plenty of women with my condition have perfectly typical labors. The condition can get better after, or worse. For some, it stays the same. Some doctors prefer to do c-sections and some refuse. Whatever happens, we will cross each bridge when we get to it. I took back control of my life, Jug. I plan on continuing to do that and mixing our DNA is a big part of those plans.”

“You know,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I agree and I think we should practice rigorously for when we do decide to mix our DNA very regularly, just so we know we’ll be good at that.”

She smiled up at him cheekily before kissing him quickly and laying her head back down. “Nice try, Casanova.”

“Worth a shot,” he shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I think we are going to make the coolest babies ever with the most epic vocabularies.”

It was after 9:30 when Archie finally came out into the waiting room. Mary and Hermione jumped up immediately and Jughead shook Betty’s sleeping form off his chest where she had fallen as she slept.

“He’s here and he’s perfect,” Archie grinned. “He’s so perfect.”

“What’s his name?” Mary cried out, running to hug him.

“How big is he?” Hermione asked.

“When can we see him?” Hiram demanded.

Archie’s brain, addled from hours in labor and delivery, took a while to process all their questions. “Maxwell. Max for short. Maxwell Fred Andrews. He’s seven pounds nine ounces and twenty-one inches long.”

After gushing it all out, he began to shake a little and then he began to cry. Mary soothed him, hugging him tight.

“He's just so tiny,” Archie gushed. “And Ronnie, she’s doing great, but seriously, she was a champion. I’ve gone hundreds of rounds in a boxing ring and that was nothing compared to what she just did.”

Archie shared that their family could come back first, based on the visitor limit, and then Betty and Jughead afterwards. They ran down to the cafeteria to finally grab some dinner and had just about finished when Archie texted them that their parents had left for the night.

Since visiting hours had long since ended, they were granted only thirty minutes, mostly since Hiram Lodge made a large contribution to the hospital wing in his grandson’s name.

“Hey, V,” Betty said softly, looking more so at the little blue bundle in her arms than her friend, tearing up a little. “Hey, Max.”

Veronica looked exhausted and gestured for Archie to take the baby from her arms. “Do you want to hold him?”

Betty nodded and took a seat next to the bed as Archie passed Max over to her. Betty cradled him softly as if he was glass and inhaled his new baby scent.

“Hey little guy, I’m your Aunt Betty and this is your Uncle Jug,” she said tearing up. “We’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time. You’re a lucky guy, you know. You have the best Mommy and Daddy ever.” 

Jughead stood behind her, hands on her shoulders looking down at his godchild and Betty with the baby. He wasn’t sure when they reached this point in their lives or even more so, a point in his own life when he desired such normalcy. But seeing Betty with the baby in her arms stirred something in him.

Their thirty minutes passed quickly and with kisses goodbye to their friends, the nurses ushered them out of the ward and back into the main hallway.

They were quiet as they waited for the elevator and Jughead wrapped her up in a tight hug, resting his chin on her head.

“You’re going to be a great Mom someday, Betts,” he muttered into her hair, Betty smiling into the familiar softness and scent of his well-worn flannel.

**Friday, June 26th**

**Office of Dr. Radhika Saraswati**

“Hey, Dr. S,” Betty beamed as she entered the familiar office, taking a seat on the old leather couch.

“Betty,” she smiled. “You seem chipper today. Are things still going well with work and with Jughead?”

Betty day back against the comfortable fixture, sinking a bit into the oversized cushions. When she first came to see Dr. S, she sat ram-rod straight in an armchair, shoulders tense and fists clenched. Over time she had made her way to the couch, often picking at her cuticles and rubbing the legs of her pants. Now, she sank back as if chatting at Starbucks with an old friend.

“Work is work,” she chuckled. “They have been keeping me more than busy, but I have vacation coming up in two weeks so I am looking forward to that. Jug is good. Things are… great, actually.”

“You know, I’m not supposed to say this, but you are one of my favorite people to see each week and I’m starting to worry you may not need me anymore,” Dr. Saraswati teased, happily.

Betty laughed and cocked a half-smile. “Oh, believe me. I will need you for a long time, Dr. S. My best friend just had a baby and Jug and I became godparents. He had a million questions on how pregnancy might affect my condition and I have a feeling I’ll need you to help me manage my anxiety when the time comes. Not to mention I need to unpack the baggage of my mom dating Jughead’s dad. That’s a whole other pot of sauce.”

Dr. Saraswati scrunched her shoulders and shimmied a bit in excitement. “I’d consider it a perfect day if I got to hold your baby during one of our sessions. Oohhhh, you did say twins ran in your family, so maybe there will be two! As for your parents… good luck with that.”

Betty barked out a nervous laugh and shook her head. “Let’s maybe start with the idea of one kid,” she said before pausing. “You know, I owe this all to you. Without you I never….” she trailed off, choking up a bit.

“No, Betty,” Dr. S. said very matter-of-factly. “You owe me nothing. I sat and we talked, but you did all the work. You opened up, you put in the time, you let yourself be vulnerable. I’m merely a mirror that prompts you to speak.”

Betty nodded, bobbing her head and biting her lip. “Regardless, I’m not sure I can ever thank you enough.”

Dr. S winked and sat back against her chair. “Well, lucky for you no thanks is needed. Just a weekly fee for my wonderful conversation skills.”

  
  


**Tuesday, July 7th**

**Ireland**

The last few weeks had been busy ones. After Veronica and Archie had their baby, Betty and Jughead attended the bridal shower for Cheryl and Toni, and had visited Riverdale for an awkward Father’s Day with their now officially dating parents. 

Betty had more breakthroughs as well. She finally began to feel pleasure during their lovemaking, and was able to peak with him for the very first time, laughing after and asking him to do it again.

Between all the life events and work, they had desperately been looking forward to their Ireland vacation.

They spent the first few days in a rental car, exploring the Emerald Isle, beginning in Dublin where they spent two days in the city.

Both of them had been awed by the immense bookshelves and old texts at Trinity College Library. They spent that night eating and touring the Guinness Factory, sampling the many beers available at the Gravity Bar there. 

The following morning they ventured to tour Kilmainham Gaol, where many Irish revolutionaries were executed in 1916. Betty thought the entire place felt spooky and continued to shiver as they explored. Jughead thought about using the setting in his next book. They grabbed some pastries for lunch at the Queen of Tarts before spending the afternoon at the Jameson Factory, sampling the whiskey there, and then taking some photos on Ha’penny Bridge. They wound up on a bench at St. Stephen’s green before dinner, their feet aching, but not wanting to rest or nap. They hadn’t wanted to waste a moment of their time in the city.

The next morning, they set out early, their destination a mystery to Betty. This was the only day on the itinerary that was blank. They were scheduled to leave the following day for Belfast before heading further north to the Giant’s Causeway.

Then they would head south into County Claire, visiting some of the beautiful outdoor spots there. After photographing the Cliffs of Moher and hiking The Burren, they’d stop and spend time in Ennis, staying over in a bed and breakfast. 

Finally, they would head further south, exploring the Gap of Dunloe, Dingle, the Ring of Kerry and Kinsale, before driving up to Cork where they planned to kiss the Blarney Stone and then on to Waterford.

Jughead had refused to fill her in on their intended destination for the day, citing it was now a vacation tradition for him to surprise her at least once and that she should settle in for a two-and-a-half-hour drive.

The drive itself was half the adventure. Without using addresses, they traveled by GPS coordinates and spent most of their time lost on “unnamed road.” Learning to drive on the opposite side of the car and road as they navigated hairpin turns left them gasping then laughing.

For a long while, the rolling hills of green kept them peacefully occupied as they surveyed the landscape, soon giving way to more trees and then lush forest before they finally reached their destination.

“Finn Lough?” Betty asked curiously. “I’ve never heard of this. Where are we?”

Jughead cut the ignition and smiled a toothy grin. “Just you wait.”

Still being mysterious, he had Betty wait with the car while he talked to a manager up ahead before flagging her over. Tugging her hand, they headed down a forest path towards Lough Erne, where their pedal kayaks were waiting.

“The best way to see all the ruins here is by water,” Jughead explained. “I don’t have the upper body of Dwayne Johnson, so I thought these pedal kayaks were the way to go.”

Suited up in their life jackets, they head out through the water, exploring the many Celtic statues and ruins around the surrounding area. Time was endless here and seeing all of the relics left Betty feeling transported.

They passed and stopped at Devenish Island to explore the ruins of an early Christian Monastery, followed by the leftover hull of Portora Castle further up the waterway before heading towards Boa Island where the beckoning statue of Janus stood. 

Excited, but tired, they paddled their way back to their initial start point to return the equipment. They had been relatively quiet on their sea adventure, pointing out sites and snapping photos as they paddled. Now back on shore, Betty wondered what other magic this site held.

She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Jughead had dragged them back to the car and urged Betty to grab swimwear before handing off their bags to the gentleman he had spoken with earlier.

“What have you got planned?” she asked, eyeing him curiously. He just shrugged and offered her an arm as they headed towards what the sign told her was  _ The Elemental Trail _ .

The Elemental Trail turned out not to be a typical trail at all, but rather a type of very secluded and private outdoor spa. Jughead explained that it was a two-hour endeavor, no waxing involved, and that no one else would be in their presence the duration.

The trail first took them to a salt room, where they dipped into a heated pool containing Epsom salts allowing them to float on the surface like lily’s on a pond. Shortly after, the lights faded out and they were left to float in deep meditation and relaxation. It was relaxation and sensory deprivation and Betty loved it. She reached out her hand and her floating fingers met his own, their solo relaxation lasting only a few moments before they had drifted close and were exchanging soft, lingering kisses in the heated water.

When their time there was up, the trail took them to a lakeside sauna that also contained a step ladder to access Lough Erne. 

“Are you going to brave the water and go into the lake?” Jughead teased as they sat cuddled up together. “Lough Erne does mean Lake of the Goddess.”

“Really?” Betty grinned. “Okay Mr. Mythology, how did it get its name, then?”

“Erne, one of Queen Méabh’s ladies-in-waiting and others were frightened away when a fearsome giant emerged from a cave nearby. They drowned in a lake, and their bodies dissolved to become Lough Erne.”

“That’s super morbid, Jug,” she chuckled, examining the ladder that lay ahead.

"Well, apparently the drowning of a goddess in a river happens a lot in Irish mythology and usually just represents her divine power flowing into the water, which then gives life to the land.”

“Well then,” Betty said, beginning her climb. “I think I owe it to the goddess to bathe in her waters.”

Slipping in, she balked out a muddled curse word or two before scrambling back up the ladder. “I knew it would be cold, but damn.”

He wrapped her up in his arms and towel, rubbing her skin and chuckling at her wide eyes before tugging her back into the trail.

“Come on,” he tugged. “Next up is aromatherapy and then on to the lakeside hot tub. No frigid goddesses there to chill you to the bone. And if you are still chilled, I believe I have a remedy for that.”

They ended their excursion in a relaxation room with herbal teas served by a wood fire. The floor to ceiling windows overlooked the forest and provided a panoramic view of the scenery.

On their exit from the trail, Betty tugged him into a clearing in the trees, pressing her lips to his and wrapped her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

“Today was amazing, Jug,” she said breathlessly. “Thank you.”

“Pshht,” he guffawed. “Who said I was done?”

From the spa they decided to walk back to their room to change, Jughead held the map upwards, downwards, and sideways as he navigated the terrain, before what could only be described as a bubble appeared in front of them, a one-hundred-eighty degree clear dome and roof, a sitting area and a large bed visible from the forest.

“Yes,” he championed. “I knew I wasn’t lost.”

“Is this- is this our room?” Betty asked, confused as Jughead keyed them into their own private bubble. 

“Yep. There is barely any light interference for miles so tonight we can cuddle under all the stars and engage in some non-platonic activities that are sure to be out of this world.”

“You keep playing your cards right and there will definitely be action below the asteroid belt tonight,” she teased back.

They changed into jeans and warm sweaters before heading back out. Down by the lake, a private table was set with dinner and cocktails, a fire pit burning in front of the water to keep them warm as the sun set over the lake.

“Is this… is this the standard dinner atmosphere?” Betty asked him curiously. “Or is this all you?”

Jughead scratched at his head nervously and waggled back and forth on the balls of his feet before pulling out her chair for her.

“I mean, I just booked some stuff. You said this was your dream trip for as long as you could remember so I wanted to make it special.”

Betty leaned over and kissed him softly. “It’s already special because I got to take it with you. I don’t think it would be possible to enjoy myself this much with anyone else.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and took a deep breath, gesturing to the spread before them. “Ladies first.”

They ate and drank, moving to more comfortable seats in front of the fire pit even as the sky darkened above. As if of their own volition, Betty’s legs steered her towards his chair. Climbing onto his lap, she grinned down sheepishly at him through her lashes, rubbing her nose against his.

He ran his palms up her back and despite the chill in the northern air, his palms were warm and sweaty, trembling a bit at her back. She found it endearing. She nipped at his lips, coaxing them to open against hers and their tongues met slowly, speaking volumes in an intimate dance. They kept it slow, his hands brushing down through her hair and anchoring her face to his own. Breathless, he tugged her back, pupils wide and jaw slightly agape, before swallowing thickly.

“Let’s head back,” he whispered, sliding her off his lap before standing as well. 

He was quiet on the walk back, swinging their hands back and forth, opening his mouth to speak and only smiling a few times.

“You okay, Jug?” she asked as they strolled.

“Just thinking,” he said softly. “Being in these trees with you reminds me of an Irish Goddess, Druantia. You remind me of her.”

The crunch of brush under their feet was the only sound in the empty wood around them, but she could swear she heard his heartbeat and every swallow.

“What was she the goddess of?” she asked, playing along 

“Druantia was actually Queen of the Druids, with piercing green eyes like yours,” he said shakily. “She was the eternal mother, a fir tree goddess, ruling over sex and passion.”

“Juggie,” Betty chuckled. “I may remind you of many things, but a goddess of sex and passion, definitely not.”

“You’re the most passionate person I know. There was a song, a poem, I read about her when I was researching folklore before we came.”

Druantia rules her own 

Slice of the dark

She's got a claim on a 

Hidden piece of your heart

She knows the secrets you keep

She feels the love

The love that you need…

What will your answer be

When she offers immortality.

They reached the clearing where their bubble dome for the night sat and he pulled her further into the open field pointing upward. Gazing up, thousands of stars, and a clear view of the Milky Way, lay above them. They looked to the sky for a few moments, having never seen such a breathtaking sight before, before Jughead spoke again.

“Betty, over the past year you’ve become a goddess in your own right; taking control of your life and bringing passion into mine. We’ve spent the past year Waking Druantia together and I hope you know that you do have a claim on me, on my heart. And I think I do on yours as well.”

Betty turned her eyes from the sky to him, rubbing a palm down his cheek, squinting at his jittery, odd behavior. “Of course you do, Jug,” she smiled softly. “I love you.”

He took both of her hands in his own, tugging her closer. “The last line had gotten me thinking: What will your answer be when she offers immortality? And with you, Betty, I’d take a forever with you any day.”

The tremor in his hands and voice was back and she could see the pulse beat against his neck. A sudden realization washed over her and her eyes snapped up to his sharply as he took a deep breath and exhaled, smiling shakily.

“I guess I should do this properly, huh?” he laughed nervously before crouching down on a knee, pulling a small black box from his pocket.

Opening the box, a Claddagh ring sat pressed into the velvet, an emerald stone for a heart in the middle. It was non-traditional, but he hoped with its meaning; love, loyalty, friendship, and their current location, she appreciated the sentiment.

“Jug,” Betty trembled, one hand covering her lips as she began to tear up. 

“Betty Cooper,” he whispered out into the trees. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she cried out almost immediately. “Yes.”

It took two tries to get the ring on her finger as they both shook, laughing as they went. They stared down At her ring-clad hand, Betty watching the stone sparkle under the stars before grabbing him and kissing him with agonizing passion.

Their lips didn’t separate as they made their way into their bubble. They fell to the bed, shedding clothes immediately, but with no rush to their exploration. Every inch of skin was explored with hands and lips, soft whispers and declarations of love given as they moved together under the blanket of stars.

Betty traced the familiar lines in his arms and chest and kissed each mole tenderly. Though now well-acquainted with him, she still found wonder in the fact that he was hers. She carved the blinking of the constellations against the raven of his hair into her mind, wanting to remember the feel of his lips against her skin and the feeling of pure love when he slid against her, their hips meeting in a slow, tender pace.

Afterwards, they held each other stargazing, trading lazy kisses, before they fell asleep, entwined, Druantia definitely awakened.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for sticking with me this long! I wanted to write a fluffy, sweet Bughead story since that makes people happy, but also bring a new facet to the fic community regarding a rarely discussed women’s issue. 
> 
> I hope you’ve enjoyed the balance between the two and spend some time learning more about the reality for so many women when it comes to their bodies.
> 
> There are plenty of true stories, podcasts, and articles out there where women share their experiences. Some are easier than Betty’s and they are “cured” in a few months, and some never find relief. 
> 
> The fluff here was made to make this Bughead, but by no means to overshadow the larger issue. Don’t be afraid to talk about this if you are suffering from it. Don’t be afraid to get help. It’s not odd, or rare, or taboo... talk to friends, family, someone... 
> 
> No one should suffer in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> So you’ve made it through chapter 1!! Woo!! So vaginismus has been popping up more and more lately, but had been portrayed inaccurately and quickly in many cases. 
> 
> I read so many fics (which I love!) where everything is always mind blowing for Bughead and virginity loss is quick, easy, and painless. For SO many that’s not the case and it’s a super untalked about issue.
> 
> I don’t want this story to be super angsty since everyone is quarantined stressed and could use some love and fluff right now, so I’ve started it off almost 3 years into Betty working on this. 
> 
> I’ve tried to stay true to reality, but am going to be going with the “mild” approach to this since I didn’t want to provide a completely rough angst fest for my lovely readers- just a story of a journey. 
> 
> In reality, many relationships, and marriages, end over this and many Betty’s don’t have a Jughead.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the immense fluff here, the scope and depth of their relationship, and the journey Betty is taking for herself.


End file.
